


Who Needs Love (When There's Southern Comfort)

by Taupefox59



Series: Who Needs Love (When There's Southern Comfort) [1]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, Demisexual Character, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Frog Prince AU, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/mentioned PTSD, LGBTQ Characters, M/M, Music, Ross becomes a cat, True Love, band au, catnip, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5083582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taupefox59/pseuds/Taupefox59
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross went to war. Ross got left by his girlfriend. Ross had a crush on his lesbian flatmate.</p><p>Ross decided that love was for suckers, and he’d much rather be bitter and drunk, thanks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Needs Love at All?

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the awesome [Pyxis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deanohell/works) for putting up with my whinging.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is for my beautiful, amazing fucking friend [My T-Rex Has Fleas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/works).
> 
> Because when she was having a shit week, she had no DarkHawk to read, because she'd written it all. :P <3
> 
>  
> 
> Title from Amanda Palmer's song ['Leeds United'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i62UF7uROGU)  
> .
> 
>  
> 
> Constructive criticism always welcome.

  

Ross had three friends. One was his cousin, Verity.

 

Verity was the balance to all of Ross’s hot-headed fire. Verity was the one who, when they had been seven, would agree to going for an adventure into the woods, but would say in no uncertain terms that racing to the tops of trees was a very bad idea. She was then the one who picked Ross up when he fell, and distracted him from the pain of his broken arm and made sure he got back home.

When they were twelve, and Verity was the only girl on the sailing team and thinking of quitting, and Ross had told her they were going camping. They’d talked all night, and he’d sat there with fire in his eyes and steel in his voice. He’d taken her hands and reminded her to never stop fighting for the things that she loved.

They were seventeen, Verity had been applying for schools. Verity’s father was ill, and had been pushing for her to stay close to home. Ross had said ‘Or maybe we’ll never get out this town’. Verity said ‘Only if you come with me.’ And they’d both left the next autumn for London.

After their first year, Ross came to Verity’s room, looking wild-eyed and restless, caged in by classes that led to dead ends. Verity sat there and made him talk, made him think until he could get past the need for action, past the cut-and-dried ‘now’ to think of where it all could lead him. Verity was the one who made him sit still long enough to think. Long enough to find another plan. It was then that Ross left for the Army.

When Ross came back from the army, Verity was the one who was there to pick up the pieces. She’d found him at the airport, brought him home, and helped him to get settled in the previously spare room of the flat she shared with Demelza Carne.

 

Demelza became another friend.

When Ross was twenty one he came back from the army scarred in more ways than one; the wild recklessness of youth tempered with shadows and bitterness. Demelza was the one to coax him back out into his life. Demelza had never lost her wonder over the world. She would see Ross, attempting to crawl into small spaces, and she would pull him back out into the sunlight.

Demelza was sunlight and and sugar cookies and science. She would find Ross sitting on the floor or the kitchen at three in the morning, and would draw him in with flour, yeast and water, soothing rough edges with sheer ebullience. She saw when Ross would look at his hands as if he didn’t know what they were good for anymore, and she would call him to the kitchen, and speak of how kneading dough formed gluten chains.

Ross, remembering how to smile, found his way back into the paths of his old life. With that, came opportunity. Meetings with suits and ties; holiday parties with CEO’s. Ross brought Demelza with him. He helped her learn how to refine her effervescence into an edge that could impress the coldest of institutions. He brought her into the circles where people spoke the language of grants and funding. When she began to be invited to conferences and consults, she would have him at her side; steady support in the face of critics.

Ross, watching Demelza find her fire, and temper it into a steady heat was entrancing. Watching her learn to lean on that banked heat, and when to let her love and intelligence spark was addictive. It was when Ross was watching her at a conference, easily fielding questions from condescending peers, when he realized that he was quite possibly more than a little bit in love.

Demelza was captivating, entrancing, and unfortunately for Ross, very openly lesbian.

 

The third person that Ross would count as a friend was Jim Hawkins.

Ross had met Jim at age four, when they’d been enrolled in the same swim class. At the time, Jim had liked rocks, and Ross had liked twigs, and they had decided that that meant they should be best friends forever.

Ross was nine, had three parents, two cousins, and one Best Friend Forever. Grace and Joshua kept them clean and fed. Linda kept their muddy boots out of the house and checked their homework. Ross’s house was for video games and comic books, and the baby grand piano in the living room. Jim’s house was for the bikes they kept in the driveway, the garage where they were allowed to max out the amps for Ross's beat-up fender, and the castle that they’d built over the years in the back of the yard. It had started as piles of twigs and rocks, and grown with them. It was now a half-stone shelter, covered with branches that had been lashed together and thoroughly camouflaged with mud and leaves. It was always just big enough to fit the two of them.

The band was named Superior Quality Mopheads, Jim and Ross were thirteen. They were playing for the intermission of the school play. Ross was played football and swam and played guitar. Jim did rugby, was on the sailing team and played piano. Ross’s voice hadn’t dropped yet, so he still took the high notes, while Jim stretched along his lower register. They were far from flawless, but their friends had sat in the front row and cheered loud enough to echo through the auditorium.

They were fifteen in the dark, Ross in his bed, Jim on the futon that was kept permanently in the bed position for all the nights that Jim stayed over. One of them whispered, ‘I think I might like boys.’ and the other had whispered ‘I think I might like you.’ The next morning they’d been fluttering heartbeats and linked fingers when they walked into breakfast and told their parents.

It was summer, Ross was seventeen. Jim had a few weeks to go still. They had plans to go stay with Jim’s Grandmother in London for a week to celebrate. They’d planned a party at home, of course, for all of their friends. For their families. Ross had a summer position doing filing for the family mine. Jim had gotten a position working to restore an old sail boat, working for a man named Mr. Silver.

 

It was summer, Ross was seventeen. Jim had gone out with Mr. Silver on the boat after they’d finished it, and had never come back.

 

Ross never went to London.

 

Ross never saw Jim again.

  
  
  


     *   *   *   *

 

Ross smiled as he shook Coral’s hand. She truly was an incredible woman. It was easy to see what had captivated Demelza. It would have been easier if she had been horrible. It would have been easier if Coral was mean or stupid or ugly, or anything that would have given Ross even the slightest hint of a reason to hate her.

But she wasn’t.

Coral and Demelza had met a university-sponsored symposium for women in science. Coral was studying medicine. Demelza had been presenting. A passing conversation had quickly turned into a request to continue the conversation over coffee, and progressed into an exchange of emails. Emails had become texts until giddy smiling at screens wasn’t enough. Their first ‘proper’ date had been at a chip shop, and then for a walk in the park.

Ross truly was happy for them both. Even if sick, dark jealousy twisted through him, and sunk into every thought. It wasn’t that he ever wanted to keep Demelza back from the things that she wanted. Demelza was happiness and intelligence and determination, and she deserved any good things she could find in life.

But there were shadows in Ross’s thoughts, as he saw the looks that passed between Coral and Demelza at the table as they all had dinner together. The black whispers that he didn’t get to have these things. He didn’t get love like that. His love was not meant to be returned. First, spent on a boy who vanished and never returned. Then, spent on his crew, which was now split and shattered into haunting nightmares and useless worry, when he’d been deemed too damaged to go back to what was left of them. Elizabeth, the love that he’d managed to build after the wreckage of Jim’s disappearance, tender and small, learning to trust. Then he’d returned from the war to find her pregnant and engaged to the father of her child, who was none other than his other cousin; Verity’s brother, Francis. His love for Verity, solid and steady, which was now pushing her to care for him, even at the expense of her own ventures. His love for Demelza, which he had known would never be returned in the way that he wished it.

Ross was fairly certain that he managed to remain polite and sociable throughout dinner. Conversation had passed easily between Coral, Demelza and Verity. Though Ross hadn’t had much to add, he’d managed to at least keep up with the thread of talk well enough to nod when appropriate. When they’d finished with the food, Ross had stood, and volunteered to deal with the dishes.

Anything to keep from watching the way that Demelza leaned in to Coral’s space, or the strikingly beautiful contrast of Demelza’s milk-pale skin against the warm brown of Coral’s. The way they fit together as a study of opposites, so different in everything except for the way they would laugh with each other. If he kept his hands busy, Ross thought maybe he wouldn’t have to think about it. So he focused on the dishes.

 

Ross jerked in surprise when he felt a touch on his elbow.

It was Verity. She had a look on her face like maybe she’d called his name several times and he hadn’t responded.

‘Sorry.’ Ross said.

Verity looked at him for a long moment before speaking, ‘Are you alright?’

Ross took a deep breath and shoved the dark feelings back as much as he could. He pulled the plug out of the bottom of the sink and grabbed a towel before turning back to his cousin. ‘I’m fine.’

Verity frowned. ‘Andrew called, but if it’s not a good night,-’

‘I’ll be fine, Verity.’ Ross said. ‘You should go. Hasn’t he wanted you to meet his flatmate for a while now, anyway?’

‘And that’ll keep a bit longer if you need-’

‘I don’t.’ Ross said. He could tell she wasn’t convinced. ‘Honestly, Verity. I’m just tired.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Verity said, meeting his eyes steadily.

‘I know you don’t.’ Ross forced out as much of a smile as he could, ‘I’ll be right as rain tomorrow. It’s just been a long day.’

Verity gave him another look before deciding to accept his answer. Then, she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. ‘Get some sleep if that’s what you need.’ She advised.

Ross pulled back and nodded toward where Demelza and Coral sat on the couch. ‘Actually, I thought I might go see a late movie.’

Verity glanced over and quickly caught his meaning. She smiled and gave his shoulder a commiserating pat. ‘You’re a good man Ross.’

Ross smiled at her. ‘Well, you’ve got another good man waiting for you if I’m not mistaken?’

Verity laughed. ‘Indeed, I have. I’ll see you tomorrow then.’

‘Have a good night!’ Ross said, letting just enough innuendo slide in to make Verity blush on her way out the door.

Ross took another deep breath, then stacked all of the dishes on the drying rack and put them into the cupboards. When he’d finished with that, he walked to the closet and grabbed his coat. He walked into the living room and let Demelza and Coral know that they would have the house to themselves for at least the next few hours. Then, he grabbed his phone from the counter and his keys from the desk by the door, and let himself out of the flat.

 

It was a beautiful night. The skies were as clear as they ever got in London, and it was just cool enough for Ross to be glad he was wearing his jacket. He took the long route to his second-favourite pub.

His favourite pub in London was a place he’d mentally declared off-limits. It had been where he’d gone during Uni, before Verity had met Andrew, and before Elizabeth and Francis had - well.

It didn’t matter now.

It was just another place full of memories that Ross didn’t want to face tonight. The look on Elizabeth’s face when Ross had finally managed to get around Verity and go see her. She’d been six months along, with a new ring on finger. The worst part had been the sadness in her eyes, when she’d tried to explain. It was never something they’d planned. She’d never wanted to hurt him.

That she still cared enough to be hurt by his pain.

He quickened his pace. He needed a fucking drink.

The bar was full of gold light and people, and Ross felt disconnected from it all. He watched as people went up to the bar and came away with trays full of shots or had their hands full of pitchers to take back to tables, crowded with people. Ross sat in the corner, drinking well Scotch. He wasn’t fit for company. He laughed softly, and the sound was hollow and bitter. He wasn’t fit for anything, much less love. More whiskey. He needed more whiskey.

Ross had no idea what time it was when he left the pub. Sometime before last call, but long after the night had gotten rowdy. He was drunk enough that he probably should have been cut off more than a few rounds ago, but he’d always known how to look steady on his feet, even if he wasn’t. It wasn’t quite the witching hour, and taxi cabs sped through the streets. Ross kept his head down as he passed people in the crosswalks. It was cold and he was drunk and the last place he wanted to be was the flat, with Verity gone to meet Andrew and Demelza and Coral filling the place with the giddiness of fresh love.

It was better to keep walking.

Ross’s fingers were freezing, despite the fact he had them shoved into his pockets. He could check the time on his mobile, but he didn’t want to. Didn’t want to be reminded of people. It was a stupid box full of happy people who all had their own fucking lives, and didn’t need him calling them up to drip all over them.

He stood on the corner, and looked up at the sky, just in time to see a streak of light flash bright and disappear. He remembered wishing on stars with Verity. He remembered learning constellations with Jim. He remembered Demelza introducing him to Neil Degrasse Tyson.

He didn’t have any wishes. Not tonight. Tonight he was just too tired.

  


*   *   *  *

 

The next thing that Ross knew, was that the world was very dark, and oddly soft. His first thought was that he was somehow in a sleeping bag, but he had no idea how he’d come to be in one. He quickly realized that he was not in a sleeping bag when he tried to reach up and realized that he no longer had hands.

Ross paused for a moment, considering if this could maybe just be a very bad dream, and if he would wake up. Then, he decided that, dream or not, he would very much like to not be in the dark anymore. It was a bit of a struggle to get out from under the giant cloth, probably only made worse by the fact that Ross kept tripping over his own...paws.

He finally managed to get out into the cool night air. He turned around and realized that the cloth had in fact been his jacket. He looked down. He definitely had paws. Very fluffy, very small paws. He flexed, and watched as claws extended.

It was still dark out, and somehow, Ross had become a kitten. At least, he was assuming he was a kitten. His failure of coordination could be entirely because he had no idea how to walk in the body of a cat. For a moment, he contemplated trying to call for help somehow. If he could get his phone out of his pocket, he could probably call Verity.

Though she would probably be very confused when he invariably wound up mewling at her.

Phone calls were definitely not going to be helpful.

Ross prodded at the pile of clothing that he’d worn out that night. What the fuck was he supposed to do as a cat? He poked at his clothes again. Ross looked up at the sky, and ran through the facts.

He wanted to go home. It was very cold. He was starting to get a bit hungry. He was a very small cat. He had no idea how he’d become a cat. He had no idea how to go back to not being a cat.

He could only fix three of these problems, and they all had the same solution. He would go home. And honestly, never come back to this pub again, because fuck, he didn’t care how long it took to walk somewhere else, because he’d been turned to a fucking cat, and he didn’t know if there had been something in one of his drinks, but he was never going to fucking take that chance again.

It wasn’t a terribly long walk as a human, but it took Ross several hours to find his flat as a cat. The streets all looked different, and he kept tripping on the perfectly flat surface of the footpath. He had never been so thankful for the busted gutter-pipe on the building, because he was able to climb it (with only a few minor mishaps) up to Verity’s window, which never latched properly anyway. It had taken a while and a bit of finagling, but finally, Ross managed to get the window open wide enough to slip through.

What Ross truly wanted was to go to his own bed and sleep until he could wake up and realize that becoming a cat was the worst, most realistic, and most bizarre dream he had ever had. Unfortunately, Verity’s door was closed, and Ross knew he had no hope of getting it open.

He was exhausted and hungry, and feeling a bit petulant over somehow losing his human body. So, upon being defeated by a closed door, Ross decided that he would simply sleep on Verity’s bed.

His first attempt to jump straight onto the bed ended up with him jumping face-first into the mattress.

His first attempt to climb up on the bed ended in him getting his claws a bit stuck until he managed to thrash about enough to pull the blanket onto the floor so he could untangle himself. His third attempt to get on to the bed, he thought to gain altitude by starting from a higher surface. Unfortunately, the only thing around that he could climb up was the pair of boots Verity had left by her bed. The were very sturdy boots. He almost managed to balance on the top of them, but when he tried to jump off, he’d slipped and landed inside the boot.

After he had finally managed to tip the shoe over and climb out, he decided that the puddle of blanket on the floor was good enough. Ross wanted nothing more than for this day to be over. He curled himself into a ball, tucked his nose between his front paws, and went to sleep.

 

    *    *    *    *

 

Ross’s dreams were confusing and bright.  He was himself again, walking along the shores of the beach in Cornwall. It was sunny and warm, warmer than it ever truly was in waking life. Ross walked along the edge of the water and let the edge of the surf rush over his bare feet. The bay was full of boats. There was a lovely wind coming in. Not enough to challenge, but just enough to keep someone busy.  He knew that Verity and Jim were together on the ocean. That they would be coming in soon.

Ross walked along the beach and tried not to think of them. Tried not to think of anything. Tried not to think of the dark, sick, twisting thoughts that were seeping into his bones and hollowing out his chest. He didn’t want them to come back. He was no good for them. Verity - Verity was stalling out her own life, simply trying to help him to keep him from falling into shambles. And Jim. He could never be enough for Jim. Jim who had left. Jim who Ross could never find despite all of his searching. Jim, who no matter how hard he tried, Ross could never save.

No. They were both much better off without him.

The sick feeling in his guts was joined by a slow, steady drip of self-loathing, because no matter how poisonous he was - he still wanted. He was selfish enough to want to be there, even if he knew he would do them no good.

But then the beach began to speak, in the voice of eons and starlight and magic.

‘ _Ross Vennor Poldark_.’ It said, ‘ _Your have been given back that which you thought was lost, and yet, you will not see it. You have blinded yourself to your own reflection._ ’

Ross was sinking in the sand as the waves rushed in around him.

The voice continued on, unspeaking and booming and timeless and present. ‘ _You will be bound to this form, to depend on the care of others until you learn to accept the love that is freely given_.’

Fear flared through Ross as those words sunk into him, carved their way into his very core. The weight of it settled into him, and he couldn’t move. He felt as though he’d been wrapped too tightly in a blanket, or trapped an invisible cocoon.

Ross couldn’t move, he couldn’t move, and he had to. He thrashed about, he had to get out, he had to-

A voice was speaking again, but this time it wasn’t the sound of trees growing and rocks breaking somehow fashioned into words. It was soft and soothing and - Verity?

Ross tried to twist, blinking his eyes open. His claws were caught in the blanket, but Verity was cooing, and stroking softly down his back, and Ross could feel himself relaxing despite himself. It took him a long moment, but he finally managed to calm down enough to actually hear what Verity was saying, as she worked to untangle him from the blanket he’d accidentally shredded.

‘You’re such a small thing, I can’t imagine you’re old enough to be away from your mum,’ she was saying, ‘and how did you even get in here? I know Demelza didn’t let you in. I’d have heard her sneezing from miles away if it’d been her.’ Verity finally got him untangled and lifted him free of his duvet prison.

Ross fit neatly in the palm of her hand.

‘Did Ross let you in? I haven’t seen him yet this morning, but I thought I’d let him sleep…’ she said.

Ross tried to say something, tried to somehow show, he was Ross. It came out as tiny mrowling yelp.

Verity laughed. ‘So it was Ross, then.’

Ross shook his head and batted at her hand. This was important. He had to make her understand.

‘You’re acting like you understand me.’ Verity said with a smile. 

Ross was starting to panic a bit. He didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t get someone, anyone to understand. He placed his paw very firmly on Verity’s wrist and nodded slowly.

 

Suddenly there was a bright flash, like a lightbulb blowing.

 

Verity blinked.

Ross blinked.

 

Then Verity’s jaw dropped open in sudden understanding. ‘Oh my god you’re Ross.’

Ross’s eyes widened, and he nodded vigorously.

‘You’re Ross?’

He nodded again, relief flooded through him. If Verity could tell who he was, she could help him get back to normal.

‘Okay,’ Verity said slowly, ‘Ross, what happened?’

Ross gave an unimpressed yowl. If he knew how it had happened, then he would have fixed it already.

‘Oh, Ross.’ Verity said, and there was a tone in her voice somewhere between compassion and pity that Ross didn’t want to think about. She scratched gently behind his ears. ‘We’ll get you sorted out.’

Ross licked at the palm of her hand in apology. He was still tired, and every part of him ached - he wasn’t sure if it was from the transformation or his fight with the blanket or maybe the long trek to the flat the night before, and he was starving. He couldn’t do anything about any of it, and he was nauseous at the sheer scale of his own helplessness.

‘Alright. Let’s find us both some breakfast.’ Verity said, cradling him securely in her both her hands as she walked through the flat. ‘I think you might be too young for proper food yet, Ross. I might have to take you into the vet.’

Ross hissed as vehemently as he could at that suggestion.

‘Not for anything bad!’ Verity said with a giggle, ‘Just to get some advice. We never had any pets growing up. I’d hate to feed you the wrong thing now.’

Ross pouted, which as a cat, came across as flattened ears and a lashing tail.

 

Verity thought it was adorable.

 

Ross hated everything.

 

 


	2. Walking with a Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross is still a kitten but he'll get it figured out soon enough. Hopefully.
> 
> First, he just needs to find a place to live that won't involve anyone sneezing themselves to death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-ed by the amazing [Pyxis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deanohell/)
> 
> \- Except for the bits that I wrote whilst keeping myself awake at 4 A.M. in an airport. So. If you catch anything, let me know, and blame it on the all-nighter. ;)
> 
> Special thanks to [WeTheRebelSkies](http://archiveofourown.org/http://archiveofourown.org/users/WeTheRebelSkies/) for being the best kind of cheerleader I could ever find.
> 
> To folk in the canoe, for furnishing me with the best of their 'demon!kitty' stories. You all are fantastic.
> 
> And, of course, my Captain [My T-Rex Has Fleas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/works). <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Title from the song ['Walking with a Ghost'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtCGODjuRq0) by Tegan and Sara

Verity set Ross on the counter, filled a shallow dish with milk for him, and then went about making her own breakfast. 

When she had her tea and a plate of toast, she sat down and looked at the kitten formerly known as her cousin. ‘Ross, the thing is - you can’t stay here.’

He looked up quickly, his eyes wide.

‘Demelza’s allergic.’

His heart sunk. He knew that. It wasn’t even that she didn’t love animals, but if Demelza spent too long in a room with cats, she’d start to wheeze and her eyes would swell shut. The problem was, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. The only other people he even knew in London where Elizabeth and Francis. On top of all of the other reasons he didn’t want to go there, their child was just shy of two months old. It would hardly be fair to ask them to take care of tiny, useless fluffball of a cat.

‘No, no, hey!’ Verity said, when she saw Ross’s fur starting to puff up in distress, ‘You can stay with Andrew, until we figure something out. He told me last night that they were planning to start looking at shelters next week.’

Ross meowed pitifully. He wanted so deeply to not be a cat anymore.

‘I know, but you know Demelza. She’d cuddle with you until she couldn’t breath anymore.’

Ross had to admit the truth in that. He let out a trill of understanding. They’d both seen Demelza overcome with her adoration of small animals. Half the time Ross was fairly certain that she forgot about her allergy until she was knee-deep in cat hair.

‘And you like Andrew.’

Ross sighed. He did like Andrew. Not more than he liked having his own bed and his own space, but given the circumstances, he supposed he couldn’t really complain. Ross suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.

He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t care for himself, couldn’t even open a fucking door, and he couldn’t live in his own house without making his flatmates sick. He’d met Andrew a few times, and liked him well enough, but this was something altogether different.

He didn’t understand. One moment he’d been fine - well, drunk and melancholy, but fine enough - and the next he’d become a cat!

Suddenly the same twisting, sinking sensation from his dream rushed back to him, along with the words of the non-voice. _‘You will be bound to this form, to depend on the care of others until you learn to accept the love that is freely given.’_ And then, Ross understood.

He’d been cursed.

And he was so, _so_ fucked.

Verity, however, hadn’t noticed his epiphany, and was still talking. ‘You know, I still haven’t managed to meet his flatmate? He got called in to work last night.’ She laughed. ‘We have the worst timing.’

 

After breakfast, Verity put the dishes away, got ready for the day and did a quick google search for how to care for kittens. From the pictures and descriptions, she’d guess that Ross was probably about four weeks old. She also learned that he was probably too young to be drinking cow milk, and that she needed to pick up some kind of kitten formula for him. She’d called Andrew and explained that somehow a kitten had broken into their flat, and she wanted to make sure it went to a good home. Luckily, Andrew had been ecstatic at the prospect. They’d made arrangements for Verity to go pick him up, and then the two of them would take Ross and go shopping for kitten supplies.

Verity hung up the phone, then turned back to Ross who was still sitting on the counter. ‘Oh darling!’ Verity said, the endearment slipping out at the sight of this tiny kitten perhorrescing on the table.

Ross sent her a baleful look but couldn’t stop shivering. He was still so tired, and cold and starting to feel a bit nauseous, though he couldn’t tell if that was from hunger of from the heavy weight of the fucking curse he was under. _‘Accept love’_. What did that even mean? It was hardly as if Ross went around _rejecting_ love. He felt a little sick at the thought. He wanted to get back to normal. He wanted to not be a fucking kitten! He just didn’t know how.

‘Here, Ross, this will help.’ Verity said, scooping him up, and distracting him from his thoughts. The next thing he knew, Ross was being securely wrapped up in one of Verity’s old jumpers.

He blinked at her. ‘Mrow?’ he asked.

‘The website said that it was best to have heating pads for kittens as small as you are. We don’t have a heating pad though, so I thought this might do for now?’

Ross let out an unimpressed noise, but snuggled deeper into the soft warmth of the jumper.

‘Oh!’ a delighted gasp came from the hallway, where Demelza was standing in her robe, her fiery red hair sticking out as if she’d gotten an electric shock. ‘Oh, she’s so small. Where did she come from?’ Demelza walked forward to peer at wrapped-up kitten on the counter.

‘He, actually,’ Verity said automatically, and then paused. Maybe it would be better to simply tell Demelza the truth. After all, Verity hardly had a good excuse for why Ross would have disappeared, or where he would have gone to. She looked up at Demelza and decided to go for it. Easier to start with the truth than have to build a lie. She just hoped Demelza would believe her. ‘Demelza,’ Verity said ‘This is Ross.’

Ross tried to say something in agreement, but it came out as a squeaking mewling noise.

Demelza glanced at the kitten and then laughed, ‘You named him after Ross? Oh, he’ll love that.’

‘No, Demelza. This _is_ Ross.’

Demelza stopped. ‘This is Ross.’ She looked from Verity to the kitten and back. ‘ _This is Ross?_ ’ she repeated slowly. ‘How?’

‘I know it sounds crazy Demelza, but I think magic?’

‘Magic.’

‘Yes. When I got home this morning, I found him in my room, and he was acting really oddly for a cat? Then I touched him and there was this flash of light and I just _knew_ he was Ross?’

‘Ross got turned into a kitten.’ Demelza said. ‘If I try do you think I’ll get it too?’

‘I don’t know,’ Verity said honestly, ‘It’s worth a go.’

Demelza reached out, and gently ran her finger along Ross’s nose. Just as before there was a flash of light, striking like lightning. ‘Oh.’ Demelza said, and then she sneezed. ‘Fuck.’

‘I’m taking him to stay with Andrew.’ Verity said quickly.

‘Oh, I could-’ Demelza started immediately, but then she trailed off. Her first impulse was to offer to go somewhere else, but she didn’t actually have any places she could go in London for any kind of a long-term stay.

‘No, Demelza, it’ll be fine. Andrew’s been looking to get a cat for a while now anyway. It’s just until we figure out how to get him back anyway. He’ll be fine.’

Demelza looked gutted. ‘But he should stay here, in his own house.’

‘Demelza,’ Verity said, ‘We’re not kicking you out. Ross has already agreed to stay with Andrew.’

Ross yowled in agreement and nodded firmly. It was hardly Demelza’s fault he’d been turned into a cat.

Demelza gave a strained smile, then scratched behind Ross’s ears. ‘It won’t take long,’ she said, ‘We’ll get you sorted out in no time.’

The moment was ruined when she sneezed so hard her eyes watered.

‘Right. That’s it.’ Verity said,  ‘Ross and I are off, you should probably take something while you can still breathe.’

 

*     *    *    *

 

It didn’t take Verity very long at all to gather up Ross and get to the car they all shared. The car was technically hers, but it wound up getting shared quite evenly between the three of them. Verity did the most travel out of London, but they all mostly used public transport to get around. There were times however, when Verity was unspeakably grateful to not have to use public transport. Like when toting her magically transformed cousin off to stay with her boyfriend.

Verity took a moment to appreciate how strange her life was, and then started the car.

They gone barely a few blocks when she noticed Ross fighting to stay awake in the swaddling of her jumper.  ‘Go to sleep Ross. We’re going to pick up Andrew then take you shopping. I’ll wake you up when we get there.’

His response was soft, a bit growly and unbearably cute.

Verity reached over and scratched beneath his chin. ‘It won’t be for long.’

Ross purred in sleepy, hopeful agreement. Between the warmth of his cocoon and the vibrations of the car, it didn’t take long at all for Ross to succumb to sleep.

Verity smiled a bit sadly at Ross as he dropped off. He’d been working so hard to build his life back up, and then for this to happen. She sighed. Ross had enough to deal with as human.

It was then that she had the thought that perhaps some time as a cat would do him some good? Ross had always been so quick to smile when they had been growing up. He’d lost that after Jim had disappeared. Every time Verity had thought that he’d just about gotten it back, something would happen. Not that any of them were as carefree as they’d once been, but Ross had once held such joy for life. Verity did truly wish for her cousin to find such easy happiness again.

Ross was still asleep in his jumper-nest when Verity pulled up in front of Andrew’s flat. She turned off the car, and after a quick moment decided it would be alright to leave Ross in the car for the few minutes it would take to walk up to the door and collect Andrew. She cracked the windows to let in some of the cool outside air, then got out of the car walked up to the flat.

She’d barely managed to knock when the door opened.

‘Vee!’ Andrew said with a grin, and he pulled her in for a quick kiss. ‘Do you have him?’

Verity smiled at her boyfriend’s obvious excitement over the prospect of a kitten. ‘He was asleep. I thought he’d be alright in the car for a few minutes.’

Andrew paused and pulled back. ‘Do you think you have just a minute? Not long, but James is here. He’s got to leave for work in a few minutes. I’d love to introduce you? I promise I’m not living with a ghost.’

Verity laughed. ‘Alright. Take me up then. I’ll say hello and then we’ll go.’

Andrew grinned and led her up the stairs. He opened the door to the flat, and let Verity in. ‘James!’ he called loudly, ‘Someone to meet you!’

‘Fuck’s sake, _Andy_.’

Verity froze at the familiarity of the voice.

‘Have you been telling people to call me James again?’

She felt like the floor wasn’t completely solid beneath her feet. Surely it couldn’t be, not after all this time-

But the blond man walking down the hall was painfully familiar.

‘Everyone knows I go by-’ He stopped when he realized who was standing in the doorway, and felt all the blood rush from his face.

‘Jim.’ Verity said softly, still in shock.

Jim stared at her in silence for a long moment before speaking. ‘Hello Verity.’

She couldn't stand it anymore, she rushed across the room and pulled Jim into a bone-crushing hug. He hesitated for less then a second before returning it with equal fervor.

‘Damnit, Jim, I could slap you.’ she said, words muffled against his chest. She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. ‘We thought you were dead!’

‘Verity, I promise, I never meant for any of that to happen.’ His voice was low and rough with emotion.

‘What the fuck happened to you?’

‘It’s a long story.’ He said, and when he leaned back the shadows in his eyes were almost palpable. ‘Verity,’ His voice cracked. ‘Verity.’ His eyes kept flicking from hers to the floor and then back. ‘How is he?’

Verity's heart broke all over again. Jim was clearly haunted by whatever had happened, he looked to be one the verge of tears. And Ross -

_Ross was still in the car._

‘Shit, Ross!’ she said, pulling away and looking frantically at Andrew.

‘What about Ross?’ Jim asked, picking up on Verity’s tense and panic.

‘I left him in the car.’

‘You left Ross in the car?’

‘You left the cat in the car…’ Andrew said, finally feeling like he wouldn’t be intruding if he spoke up.

‘Yes. Ross is the cat.’ Verity said, not really watching her words.

‘You named the cat Ross?’ Jim asked

‘...Yes.’ Verity said, not sounding very certain at all, ‘Yes,we did.’ That was when it truly dawned on her. Ross would be staying here. Living here. With Jim. ‘Oh, _Ross_ …’

‘Are we still talking about the cat?’ Andrew asked, not entirely sure he was following the conversation.

Verity stepped away from Jim and straightened herself up. ‘Yes. We are still talking about the cat.’ She turned to Jim, ‘Andrew said you were on your way to work?’

‘Yes, I was, but -’

‘I don’t even have a box for him, I just left him because he was asleep. I really don’t want a kitten to tear up my car.’

‘Right,’ Jim said, ‘but-’

‘We have a lot to talk about.’ Verity said. ‘My only plans for the day involve getting Ross settled.’

‘If you two want the flat this evening,’ Andrew started, ‘It’s quite obvious you two have things to talk about…’

Verity opened her mouth, but Jim spoke first.

‘No, you work tomorrow. And you should be here to help...Ross...get settled.’

Verity thought that maybe giving Ross an evening to adjust to the fact that he would be living with Jim might be a very good idea indeed, and the very least that she could do. ‘I’ll give you my number.’ She said, ‘Call me when you get off work, and we’ll figure something out.’

‘Right.’ Jim said. He quickly tapped her number into his phone, and saved the contact. ‘I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late.’

‘And we’ve got a cat in the car.’ Verity said agreeably.

The three of them left the flat together in supremely awkward silence. They got down the stairs, Jim gave them both a nod and walked off, leaving Verity and Andrew standing by the car.

‘So. I didn’t really need to introduce you at all.’ He said, voice carefully neutral.

‘We grew up together.’ Verity said, slowly. She felt like so much of the story wasn’t hers to tell. ‘Jim and I were on the sailing team together when we were in school, but it isn’t really about me.’ She turned away from Andrew and leaned back against the car.

‘Jim and Ross. They just _were_. Our whole lives they were together, and when they started dating, they were just one of those couples - the kind that you actually thought would make it. I think we were fifteen, maybe? But you looked at them, and what they had, and it just felt like if anyone could do it, they could.’ She had to fight to keep her voice even against the rising emotion.

‘And then we were seventeen, and something happened, and Jim just disappeared.’ Verity took a deep breath. It hurt. It still hurt. And now, faced with Jim, alive and well and whole, she didn’t know how she felt. It was just too much.

‘Ross was devastated - Of course he was! It had been the two of them for as long as I can remember. He spent that entire summer searching. He told me he thought about dropping out of school to keep looking. None it ever came to anything though. We never found anything.’ She turned to look at Andrew. ‘It turns out that all this time he’s been your flatmate!’

‘Vee,’ Andrew said, softly. She turned to him, and he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. ‘If you need anything...’

She leaned into his steady warmth. ‘Thank you.’ She stayed there for a long moment, safe in Andrew’s arms and away from the storm of emotion that had occurred. Finally, she took another deep breath and stepped away. ‘Let’s start by taking care of this cat.’

‘The cat you named Ross.’ Andrew said, with disbelieving laugh.

‘The cat we’ve named Ross.’ Verity affirmed with a grin and a nod. She opened the car door and grabbed the sweater bundle. Ross was still asleep inside.

‘He’s so cute!’ Andrew cooed, running a finger down Ross’s nose.

Verity giggled at the sight. She had a suspicion that it was probably for the best that Ross was asleep for this. Grinning still, she got into the car. Andrew got in the passenger seat, still whispering sweet nothings at the sleeping kitten.

 

*   *    *    *

 

They were loaded down with supplies when they got back to the flat. It had taken much longer than Verity had anticipated to get everything they would need to care for Ross. There had been a vet at the pet-store who had confirmed Verity’s guess of Ross’s age as a kitten, and had given them print-outs and advice, and directions to the proper aisle to find kitten formula.

Verity had kept her promise to wake Ross up when they were in the pet store, unrolling him from her jumper and proceeding to ask his opinion on all sorts of pet supplies. Ross didn’t care much about squeaky balls or chew toys - though he did have very strong opinions over getting a litterbox with a lid. He’d also been completely taken by surprise at just how fantastically soft the bedding options were. He hadn’t even realized that cat instincts had taken over until Verity had gently pulled his claws out of the fleece lining of one of them, and said ‘I think we’ll take this one.’

Ross was deemed too young for shots by the vet. Ross had done his best to pay attention when the woman had been speaking to Verity and Andrew, grudgingly aware that he understood very little of his current situation. Most of what he heard made sense- young kittens often had trouble regulating their own body temperature, which explained why Ross was feeling cold all the time. Kittens could sleep for around twenty hours a day, and usually ate about six times a day. Though, when Ross had heard the vet outlining a feeding schedule that involved someone having to wake up at four in the morning, Ross vowed to not be that much trouble. He was already stuck as a cat. The least he could would be to curb his appetite to fit within a reasonable sleeping schedule for the poor people forced to care for him.

The vet had also handed them a pamphlet on when to get cats fixed that Verity had tactfully pocketed, to Ross’s great relief.  

They’d come out of the shop with a trolley full of supplies, which Ross found to be a bit astounding and that he hoped would be entirely unnecessary. There were packs of soft food that were meant to be mixed with kitten formula, and they had even picked up a bottle as a precaution recommended from the vet. He was, however, quite content as the recipient of a plain black collar with a plain, steel disk embossed with ‘ROSS POLDARK’ on one side, and Andrew’s phone number on the other.

Though Ross was now aware it was apparently normal for kittens, he was frustrated at finding himself to be exhausted all the time. He knew that he’d only been awake for the brief time that they’d been in the pet shop, but he was already fighting off the thick, heavy call of sleep. Verity’s jumper had been replaced by a painfully soft blanket. Andrew had been driving on the way back. Verity had pulled Ross close, wrapped securely in his new blanket. She let her fingers drift to pet softly around Ross’s neck and softly encouraged him to sleep. Ross drifted off without ever noticing that he was purring in satisfied contentment.

 

*     *    *    *

 

The trouble started, unfortunately, that afternoon. Verity and Andrew had gone through the apartment, setting out all of the gear they’d picked up to keep a kitten occupied and happy within the confines on a flat. They’d set up a scratching post in the living room and the bed in a corner by the sofa. The litterbox had gone between the toilet and the shower, and they’d mixed up several batches of what the vet had called ‘kitty gruel’ for when Ross inevitably needed to eat.

Ross, for his part was completely overtaken by the cat-instincts that had apparently come with his new form.  The previous night he had been far too concerned with being able to get himself home, he had managed to push everything else to the side. Here, newly installed within Andrew’s flat, he could appreciate for the first time how amazing everything _smelled_.

Perhaps it was because he was no longer wrapped in Verity’s jumper, which, unsurprisingly, smelled of the vaguely floral detergent they all shared at the flat. The pet supply store had been impossible, being passed from person to person, walked through countless aisles full of _things_. Entire aisles that had smelled rich and salty, and everything had been overlaid with some kind of strange, heavy chemical scent that Ross couldn’t place. It was hard enough being a human faced with so many choices, but Ross was finding himself succumbing to kitten instincts far more often than he was proud to admit.

The first thing he wanted to do when set down in the flat was to sink his claws into the carpet on the floor. It was so soft beneath his feet, and he wanted to know how deep it went. He managed to reign in his instinct to tear up the furniture, though. The next thing that hit him was the smell of everything. The kitchen smelled like coffee and a bit like tea, and a bit like burnt toast.

Andrew and Verity were busy in the kitchen, so Ross decided to continue his explorations. There was a closet in the hallway that smelled of dust and detergent, which Ross thought must be a laundry room of some sort. There was Andrew’s room which smelled mostly of cologne, but also a little damp. There was something else though, something that was threaded through the entire flat, and Ross didn’t know what it was. What he did know was that he wanted to roll around in it, wanted to smother himself in it, wanted to curl up and sleep in it. It smelled a bit like sweat, salt and musk, and there was something spicy about it and Ross couldn’t think straight. Any semblance of rational thought was lost to the kitten-desire to find out what the smell was.

Ross traced it back through the flat. In the living room it was strongest on the edge of the couch right next to the end table with a lamp. Ross managed to climb up the couch with significantly more luck then he’d had with Verity’s bed. He was fairly certain he’d managed to not leave noticeable holes in the upholstery as he’d scrabbled up. The scent was stronger on the couch, but Ross could still smell other things. Ross wanted to find the place where the amazing smell was coming from. It took a bit of burrowing through the cushions, but eventually Ross decided the smell wasn’t from the couch.

Ross went back to the hallway, and kept going. The scent got stronger, until Ross reached a closed door.  At the frustration of being met with a closed door, Ross came back to himself. Realizing that he’d just spent the past fifteen minutes tracking down whatever ridiculous smell made his cat-brain go haywire, Ross slunk back into the kitchen.

Verity kept sending him intense looks that he couldn’t quite decipher. Ross had gotten the feeling that she had tried several times to send Andrew away, so they could have a moment, but he wasn't sure what they could possibly need to talk about.

 

Also, Andrew was the _best_ partner for playing with string.

 

 *     *    *    *

 

Ross hadn’t even realized that he’d fallen asleep until he was waking up. He was warm in a sunbeam on the floor, and someone had wrapped him in his blanket. It was cozy and soft, and Ross was tempted to simply go back to sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept this much, let alone this well. The house was starting to smell like something else though, Ross thought perhaps garlic and curry, and that was certainly worth checking out. He crawled out of his blanket (and managed to only trip a few times) and wandered over to where Andrew was working at the stove.

Ross walked up and pawed at Andrews ankles, meowing his curiosity. Not only was whatever he was making smell delicious, but Ross wasn’t entirely sure what time it was, or if Verity had left already. He felt a vague twinge of regret. He hadn’t meant to ignore her pleading looks. He’d just been distracted. So many new smells, so many things to feel. It had been Ross’s first real chance to pounce on things, and, he may have let himself get carried away.

He wasn’t sure what had been so important, but he decided that if Verity truly thought he needed to know, she would have found a way to tell him.

Andrew finished whatever he was doing on the stovetop, then reached down to scoop Ross up.

‘Hey Ross, how’re you doing?’

Ross purred his contentment.

‘You thirsty?’ Andrew asked.

‘Yiraow!’ Ross said in enthusiastic affirmation.

Andrew smiled sweetly, and ran his fingers over Ross’s ears. ‘Alright then. Let’s get your dinner settled.’ Andrew went to the sink and filled up a dish that he and Verity had gotten that afternoon. He carefully walked the full bowl of water over to the counter and slid it in front of Ross.

Ross stared. He approached the bowl slowly. He was sure that if he just didn’t think about it, the cat part of his brain would surely know how to do this. He leaned tentatively over the bowl and waited. Surely there would be some flash of instinct. Instead he over-balanced and slipped. He pulled himself up with pouting churr, but he was determined to try again. If he was going to be stuck as a cat, he needed to at the very least figure out how to drink without giving himself a bath at the same time.

This time he approached the bowl at a crawl, slinking along and staying low to the ground. He reached the edge and leaned over, arching his neck over the lip of the dish, straining to reach the liquid within. The tips of his whiskers brushed the water in the bowl. He opened his mouth and tentatively licked at it. It was lovely, cool and refreshing. He couldn’t seem to get any of it into his mouth though.

Ross leaned forward, trying to get a bit closer, and only managed to tip the bowl. A wave of water sloshed out and ran down his chest. He scrambled away from the dish, and sent it a thoroughly disapproving glare.

It was then that Ross became aware of the muffled choking noise coming from behind him. He turned and saw Andrew was red faced with laughter, biting his fist in an attempt to keep quiet.

Ross glared at him too.

It took Andrew a few long moments, but eventually he was calm enough to face the forlorn, dripping kitten who had just lost against his own dinner. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said kindly,  ‘You’ll get the hang of it.’

Ross put his ears back and ran back to his blanket. He would practice more when Andrew had gone to bed. He would get the hang of it, but he certainly didn’t need an audience until then. He curled into the plush warmth of his bedding and let himself slip back into sleep.

 

 *      *      *     *

 

When Ross woke up, the only thing he could think of was the gnawing pit of hunger twisting through his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time  he’d been so hungry, that it became a rolling, full-body ache. It wasn’t a good way to wake up. He could feel the thick weight of sleep warring with the sharp insistence of his need for food. He struggled from his bed and into the kitchen.

The flat was dark and quiet.

It was then when Ross remembered his promise. He didn’t want to be more trouble than he already was. The last thing he wanted was to start waking up anyone in the middle of the night. Ross wandered over to the fridge. The water dish was still out, but everything else was still in the fridge. Ross felt a wave of despair crest. How was he supposed to do anything? He was going to be trapped as a cat for the rest of his life. He didn't notice that his thoughts were manifesting as plaintive whimpers.

Ross turned, when he heard a door down the hallway rattle open. Ross closed his eyes and put his head between his paws. He hadn’t meant to wake anyone up. He was so tired. He could just sleep here. Andrew would find him in the morning and feed him first thing.

The next thing Ross knew, he was surrounded by warm skin, and that the incredible smell throughout the place must belong to Andrew’s flatmate.

‘Well, hello there Ross.’ The voice that rumbled out was a warm tenor. ‘You sound like you might be hungry.’

Ross whined. He hadn’t meant to cry, he hadn’t even noticed. He cursed his poorly-timed bursts of instinct.

‘Andrew said he had stuff for you all up in the fridge.’ The man with the warm, friendly voice had casually tucked Ross into the crook on an elbow, which Ross loved. It was warm and secure, and Ross would have been very happy there for all eternity, except it meant that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get a glimpse of Flatmate’s face.

The door to the fridge opened. ‘Oh!’ Flatmate said, ‘Alright. This will take a moment.’

Ross wasn’t paying attention. Ross was too busy burying his nose into the soft cloth of Flatemate's shirt, and luxuriating in the steady warmth from being held. He had almost managed to drift back to sleep when he was being shifted, and something soft was pressed into his mouth. He sucked on it instinctively and was rewarded with a mouthful of warm kitten formula. It tasted like a chalk milkshake, and it was the most amazing thing that Ross had ever had.

Ross didn’t even remember falling asleep. All he knew was his pleasantly full stomach, the steady, thrumming calidity of another heartbeat, and an inexplicable feeling of security that settled deep into his dreams that night.


	3. You Can Blame It On Me (But Don't You Blame It On Love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember those 'Fluff' and 'Angst' tags?
> 
> This is the *angst* part.
> 
> Also, we learn about Jim!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To [Pyxis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deanohell/works), as always, for being the best beta even when I wake her up in the middle of the night and she's editing shit on her mobile phone. <3
> 
> Title from Maria Mena's [Blame It On Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U1uWRcemGHs)

~ 6 years previous ~

 

They had packed up their gear with shaking hands and giddy smiles, euphoric and reeling in the dim, smoky air of the pub. It had been a full crowd; the pub regulars joined with the friends and family out to support their first proper gig.

They’d come a long way from their first performance, so far from those first days with lyrics scribbled on the back of maths papers and needing additional microphones because they only had acoustic instruments. It had started as the two of them, Jim on his 5-octave keyboard, and Ross on the old acoustic guitar they’d pulled out of the attic. Years had passed since then. Ross’s voice had dropped and deepened into a rich, warm baritone which contrasted with Jim’s smoky tenor. They’d expanded, Jim carter on bass and Jinny Hendlin on drums, and Elizabeth for rhythm guitar.

They danced around getting a different name for the band nearly every month, but when it came down to it, no one ever came up with anything better, so they’d stayed as the Mopheads. Despite the new additions, the core of the band stayed the same as it always had been - as it always would be. Jim and Ross, trying to see who could come up with the worst lyrics as they sang back and forth in the echoing, empty space of Linda’s garage. It was still the two of them, throwing notes at each other as they passed in the hallways; wadded up scraps of paper with a few sparse lines written on it, half thoughts of possible lyrics jotted down before they could be forgotten.

“ _Lost shoes and hot sauce._ ”

“ _I drank a lot of people’s water last night._ ”

“ _You’re standing in the kitchen hallucinating spiders._ ”

“ _We find what we’ve lost and we fall down the hill looking._ ”

Slowly, afternoons in the garage, when it wasn’t chord progressions and arguments over how many syllables per line, when the music of instruments faded, to the music of heartbeats. The long summer afternoons when Jim and Ross would be just as likely to have written and completed a brand new song as they were to have abandoned the thought of practice altogether. Where there had always been soft-spoken secrets and unquestioned security, now there were new things. Soft touches from hesitant hands as familiar skin was explored in new ways. New sounds pulled from familiar voices in reaction to the soft crush of mouths and the blooming heat of desire. The other members of the band spiralled around in their orbit, but Ross and Jim, together, made up the sun of their little galaxy; shining so brightly they seemed to radiate light, and yet managing to capture people in some kind of inevitable pull.

It was through that gravitational pull that they’d managed to find time between everyone’s schedule to keep the band going. They practiced three times a week, and had just enough recording equipment to have a low-fi ‘EP’ to give out at house parties. All of it had led up to this night, when they had been loading the last of their gear into the back of the Hawkins’ van, and the manager of the pub had come out. He’d stood there, glaring at the five of them from under his bushy white eyebrows. 

‘This was a good crowd you pulled.’ He’d said, ‘If you want the same slot next month, you’ve got it.’

Then he’d turned and retreated back to his pub, running from the joyous cacophony coming from the teenagers in his parking lot.

 

When they had finished they had all gone their separate ways, trickling back to the family cars that had delivered them to the pub in the first place. Ross and Jim were pressed together in the back seat of Linda’s van, still laughing, still buzzing off the rush of performance. Their legs were tangled up amongst instrument cases and amps and coils of cord, but they managed to hook their ankles together. It was easy for them, natural as breathing, the only way they ever remembered being: connected, together, always.

 

They’d spilled out of the car once they'd reached Jim’s house. The night was clear and cold and dark, with the full moon well on its way to the far horizon. Linda had gathered them both in close, because they were both her boys, and the fierce pride she felt for them that night was uncontainable. When she’d given them both a kiss on the head and a firm admonishment to leave enough in the fridge for everyone to have food for breakfast, she took herself to bed.

The boys had gone up to Jim’s room, and tried to keep themselves quiet. It took them about twenty minutes to realize nothing would come of it. Closed eyes only led back to the heady glow of the multi-coloured lights that had lit their stage.

‘Time is it?’ Jim asked from where he was flopped back on his bed.

Ross reached for his phone. ‘Half-past three.’

The silence between them was charged. They both knew they had no hopes for sleep that night.

‘Do you want to go walk the beach?’ Jim finally put forward.

Ross smiled, bright and alive. ‘Sounds perfect.’

 

     *       *        *       *

 

They walked down the twisting path of sand, but they both knew the path well enough that they could have walked it in the dark. The light from the moon turned it into a study of contrast, pale sand glowing white against the black of the water. They walked close, arms wrapped around waists to share warmth against to cold breeze coming off the ocean.

Ross paused and pulled Jim in closer, nuzzling into his hair.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

‘Tonight was amazing.’

‘I told you we could do it.’

‘I know. I believed you.’

Jim turned in Ross’s arms, and tilted his face up, pressing a soft kiss to Ross’s mouth. Ross kissed back, warm in the cold night air. It was soft and slow, a celebration of the present. They pressed together, together and joyous and sparking with life. They were basking in the lingering glow of their creation. Hours and months and years of life, building together to moments they could have never accomplished alone. They were caught in a cycle where together they spun into mutual inspiration, working together, striving apart; bolstered and secure in the knowledge that no matter what happened, it would always be the two of them.

‘We should go up to the point.’

‘Watch the sunrise?’

‘Yeah. It shouldn’t be more than an hour from now.’

‘Alright.’

They headed to where the rocks cut off the sand of the beach. There were boulders that led up to a small path that wound up the cliff. It was the same path they’d taken for their entire lives. They’d long since learned where to step, which shadows were concealing hand-holds, and which rocks couldn’t hold their weight.

The last bit of the trail was almost completely vertical. They pulled themselves up, and sat back in the grass, warm from the exertion and from each other, as they curled up to watch the shooting stars disappear into the auroral grey of the rising sun.

They were quiet as they lay together, watching as the stars slowly faded into the lavender-grey of the oncoming morning. The sky slid from the deep black of night into the uncertain light of the oncoming day. They turned to each other, in the moments before it was light enough for shadows to take hold, when everything was soft and lined with the pre-dawn light.

They came together again, there, before the day had woken, pressing tightly into each other, so sure in the paths of their hands and the fit of their mouths. They fit together in the way of people who had never learned another way, curled together as dew formed on the grass around them. With eyes closed and hands entwined, their hearts beat together as the grey turned to gold and the world woke around them.

 

When dawn finally crested over the dark of the ocean, they fell asleep in the warm, steady surety of each other and the sun.

 

     *     *     *    *

 

Ross could feel the smile on his face when he took a deep breath and nosed deeper into Jim’s hair. The sun was warm on his face, and he knew they’d have to get up soon, or risk Jim’s mum coming in to wake them up. She didn’t usually let them sleep this late. He reached up to loop an arm around Jim’s waist, pull him closer as he always did in the morning.

It was then that he realized: he wasn’t in Jim’s bed. He wasn’t seventeen. He was a fucking cat, and he had no idea where he was.

He blinked his eyes open, only to be faced with nothing but golden hair shining in the late morning light. He let out a growl which came out sounding far more like a trill than he would have liked. Hauling himself up, he took stock of the situation. He was on the pillow of someone who was most certainly not Andrew. His eyes closed and he instinctively sniffed. The hair in front of him smelled faintly of coconut, and he could make out the warm smell of fabric. Mostly though, it was just the overwhelming good scent from the day before.

It was then that he remembered the previous night, being picked up and held secure in warm, steady arms. The effortless comfort that had come from food and shelter, and the addictive feeling of being cared for. He’d been held and fed and _safe_  in a way that he hadn’t felt in years.

He huffed. He didn’t want to feel like this. He didn’t want to be swept away by unknown strangers. He wanted to be himself again. He wanted to be back in control of his own life. Not entirely dependent on anonymous blond men.

He got up and stalked around. If he was going to be sharing the same bed as the flatmate, he wanted to at the very least know who the flatmate was.

He walked around the halo of golden hair, and then froze.

 

It couldn’t be.

But it was. 

It may have been years, but Ross would know that face anywhere.

 

_Jim._

 

    *    *     *     *

 

Ross stared, completely able to parse through the myriad of emotions storming through him. He kept circling back to the same question - _how_.

 

How had Jim come back?

How had he ended up here?

More than anything else, was the question that was tinged with desperate despair:

How had he not known?

How had no one told him that Jim was back? Or even that he was alive?

 

Sadness washed through him. What had he done, that had led to this? What had he done, to so remove himself that no one even thought to inform him that Jim wasn’t dead.

He stepped forward, and gently pressed his paw against Jim’s cheek, feeling the skin give under the pressure. The steady reality of Jim Hawkins, alive and sleeping deeply.

Ross pulled his paw back and stared some more, drinking in every inch of the man in front of him. There were the faint hint of lines around Jim’s eyes. His face was more defined than it had been before; Jim’s jaw had lost the soft edges of youth and the planes of his cheeks were sharper. There was the faintest hint of blond stubble in the morning light. It was the same same nose though, the slight cleft of chin. The way that golden eyelashes fanned against delicate, thin skin was familiar from so many mornings; so many afternoons of satiated lassitude.

Ross could feel his claws sinking into the pillow he was standing on as wretched, endless sorrow started to curdle at the back of his mind. It started as the smallest spark, but as Ross stood there, watching the even rise and fall of Jim’s chest, as he heard the deep steady cadence of Jim breathing, those sparks caught flame.

How dare he. How _dare_ Jim just go on?

How dare he begin life again?

Ross stared as the heat of anger tore through him, borne from every disconsolate fissure that had cracked and spread since Jim had disappeared, until it consumed him.

Jim slept on, peaceful and seemingly completely unaware of the unrelenting, burning rage that was quickly overcoming the other occupant of his bed.

Ross looked at Jim, and let himself be washed away in the torrent of fury.

 

Jim was happy. Jim had moved on?

Well. Ross would show him.

Ross would make sure that Jim understood what it meant to be hurt.

 

    *    *    *    *

 

Ross had chosen his hiding place well. The back corner of the coat closet in the hallway was hidden away behind huge boxes of strange clothes and black hoses and cold cylinder tanks. The closet had accordion-style doors that Ross could push open and close well enough to not cause notice.

His hoard was growing with every day, and Ross forced himself to be proud of it.

The only other option was to succumb to the hollow desolation that still waited at the edges. Dark, aching sadness that felt like a bottomless pit. Despair warring with fear as Ross looked at Jim and wondered if maybe he truly just wasn’t enough.

Jim walked through the kitchen, muttering angrily about how all of his socks had disappeared, and Ross clung to the feeling of victory. Ross knew if he let himself fall, if he lost the momentum of his anger, the only thing waiting was the immutable, agonizing loneliness and the sick, shredding certainty that no one had ever truly loved him back.

So Ross kept moving, phasing in new action plans, whenever it seemed as though Jim had adapted to cope with the last. Ross had started with pocket change. Every coin that Jim pulled out of his pockets wound up in the Hoard. Every slip of paper, every hair tie, every crumpled receipt from the corner store. Ross would wait until Jim’s back was turned, and then he would pounce, and drag his prize back to the dark corner of the closet. Paper clips, hastily scribbled notes, - Ross took anything he could find. Every time Jim set a cup on the table, Ross would be there, either to knock it to the floor or to sample the contents.

When Jim would spend five minutes looking around, trying to see where he’d left a note with a phone number on it, Ross would hide in the closet and tell himself that his revenge was justice. When Jim would get over it with a curse and a shake of his head, Ross knew he had to move to the next level.

Ross pushed aside the fact that Jim still took his tea the same way that he always had - no sugar, just the smallest splash of cream, and focused instead on the soft smile that would appear every time his mobile phone rang. Ross ignored the way that Jim still cradled his first mug of coffee to his chest in the same way that he always head. Instead Ross focused down, put on blinders to everything that wasn’t the way that Jim would smile at Andrew when they were joking over dinner. The painfully familiar pride that would spark in Jim’s voice whenever he talked about the pub he was apparently running.

Ross looked at Jim, happy, successful, and completely _over_ everything that had happened to them, and Ross let his grief fester into anger, and anger was something he knew what to do with; something that Ross had kept in good company for the past years. He knew how to take anger, and sharpen it. Fashion his pain into a weapon, turn his rage into fuel.

 

Phase two was bigger.

Ross started out slow again, waiting for when Jim would toe off his shoes and peel off socks, and ease off the stress of the day. Ross would start with just one, and then when Jim would wander into the kitchen to put the kettle on, Ross would steal the other. He knew that was a long-term plan though, so in the meantime, Ross worked on other plans. In the dark of Jim’s closet, he steadily, patiently worked the shoelaces out of all of Jim’s shoes. (This plan was one that Ross thought was particularly genius, because not only did it deprive Jim of shoelaces, it also left Ross with a brilliant collection of string to bring to Andrew for playtime.)

Ross took his knowledge of Jim - Jim who had never been bothered by spiders, but hated moths, so Ross did his best to escape out the window at least once a day, so that Jim could always find a present. He did neat work changing the places of his gifts. Sometimes he would leave the dead insects on Jim’s pillow, waiting for when Jim was exhausted and dropped into bed, not noticing until the drying exoskeleton would crunch beneath Jim’s very human weight. Sometimes Ross would leave his gifts in Jim’s shoes, so Jim wouldn’t find them until feel were already jammed in, and there was an unpleasant, unexplained lump taking up space beneath his foot.

Ross had started sneaking into Jim’s room in the middle of the night, and curling up on Jim’s face, and simply waiting until Jim woke up enough to shove him off. Then he would crawl back. Only when Jim had woken properly enough to pick Ross up and put him outside the room would Ross go back to his bed.

The lack of sleep started to wear Jim down, and Ross could see it. Where before, Jim had been quick to smile, the circles under his eyes got darker, and Jim got quicker to snap. Jim started growling every time his phone would ring. The moments spent looking for papers got longer, with Jim unleashing blistering lengths of profanity when his searches came up with nothing.

Ross pushed through the sympathy that dragged into him, the guilt of what he was doing. Every moment with Jim was agony; rolling in salt after he’d his skin had been peeled off. Jim’s happiness only served to illuminate all the ways in which Ross knew he was still failing. Jim had left, Jim had done whatever the fuck he’d been up to for all those years. Jim had left Ross, and Jim was clearly okay.

Ross was learning with every day just how okay Jim was. Jim owned a pub. Jim had fucking bought the flat they were living in. Jim had friends. Jim had Andrew - who he’d apparently met when he'd needed a wreck-diving partner, whatever the fuck that meant. They'd hit it off, and when Andrew had gotten into Uni in London, Jim had decided to go with him. Every new fact just stirred the heat of Ross’s desperately impassioned resentment. Jim who had _left_ , and Jim, who despite it all was still _just fucking fine_. Ross saw it, and he burned.

 

It had been nearly a month of Ross’s cold war, and Jim was practically living off of tea and coffee. Jim’s blond hair hang limp and greasy when he didn’t have it pulled back into a sloppy tail. Ross knew his tactics were working.

Jim was dragging, fraying at the edges, and Ross forced himself to believe that what he felt was happiness. He couldn’t stop to feel guilt. He couldn’t let himself think long enough to feel anything other than the single-minded drive to make Jim miserable. Ross knew on some level that revenge was hardly healthy, but the only other option was was the endless heartache that he’d been skirting around for years. Ross settled his resolve. He’d lost enough years in his grief for Jim. He wasn’t about to lose more now, knowing that Jim was here, and alive, and happily moving on.

Phase three took some time for Ross to work up to, but when he was nearing two months as a cat, he managed it well enough. Casually tipped over glasses suddenly had insidious aim, spilling on papers instead of safely to the floor. Ross started chewing through power cords - how could Jim smile happily over the phone if he couldn’t turn it on anymore? Laptops were fair game. The computer that Jim kept in the corner of his room, and used for a few solid hours every morning before he went to work became nothing more than a paperweight, as Ross methodically destroyed charger that got plugged in. The day that Jim left his wallet on the cabinet top was particularly valuable, as Ross took the opportunity to steal Jim’s pass for public transport.

 

The breaking point truly came when Ross stole Jim’s keys and dropped them into the toilet. Luckily Jim found them before they’d been flushed into the pipes and lost forever, but there was something dull in his eyes when he collapsed onto the kitchen counter to wait for his coffee to brew.

Andrew stepped into the kitchen, and all he needed to see was the defeated slump of Jim’s back. ‘James, you look terrible.’

‘Your fucking cat hates me.’ Jim said, mumbling into his arms.

‘You need a break.’ Andrew said, pointedly not commenting on the antagonistic relationship that seemed to have developed between Jim and Ross.

Jim lifted his head and frowned. ‘I can’t take a break. I have a pub to run Andrew, I ca-’

Andrew cut him off. ‘That’s shit and you know it.’

Jim turned on him, eyes flashing. ‘It is not.’ His voice was sharp and cold; weeks of frustration pouring out at the slightest hint of opportunity.

‘It is too.’ Andrew insisted. ‘You forget that I was here when you hired everyone. You picked these people because they know how to do their jobs! You don’t have to be there every second!’

Jim brought a hand up to run through his hair. ‘Andy'…’

‘No.’ Andrew said firmly. ‘I’ve called Verity, she’s coming over to take care of Ross for the weekend. We’re going to Llanwrtyd Wells.’

‘What?’ Jim asked, ‘Why?’

‘It’s the World Bog Snorkeling competition.’

A small smile played at the edges of Jim’s mouth, just enough to bring out a hint of his dimples ‘You’re joking.’

‘I already signed us up.’ Andrew said, smiling back, bright and wide. He’d watched as Jim had gotten more wound up and stressed out over the past few weeks. Seeing his flatmate finally smiling was more of a relief than he could say.  Jim had been through enough. If it took scumming up all their gear to participate in one of the strangest sports ever created, well. It was more than worth it.

‘You already signed us up?’ Jim asked, smiling wider.

‘I had to make sure we had a spot. I’m sure that bog-diving competitions fill up fast you know.’

Jim laughed, soft and warm in the cool, grey morning light. ‘I’m sure it does.’

It was when Jim was halfway through his first cup of coffee that Jim turned to Andrew and made a face. ‘Bog diving is gonna be hell to scrub out.’

Andrew laughed. ‘We might have to get all the way to the coast to do a proper dive to rinse things out.’

Jim smiled, and this time it was full and bright, without reservation. ‘You’re the fucking best, you know that?’

Andrew lifted his own coffee mug in acknowledgment. ‘Of course I am.’

 

 

Jim left for his pub to finish his stock-take and let everyone know he would be away for the weekend. It was Andrew who got all of their gear together during the interim.

Ross came at a run when he realized that someone was getting into the closet where he’d hidden his hoard.

Andrew shot the kitten a sad look. ‘I don’t know why you’re so mean to him.’

Ross’s ears went back and he flattened himself against the far wall as best as he could. It wasn’t mean! It was justified! It was! Ross clung to the words, no matter how hollow they’d become with the constant repetition.

‘What do you have against James anyway?’ Andrew said, hauling cardboard boxes of black plastic hoses and the metal cylinders out of the closet. ‘He said you seemed to like him fine enough that first night.’

Ross shrunk back. He didn’t want to hear about how Jim didn’t deserve things. Jim had to deserve these things.

It was only when Andrew moved all of the gear to the living room to start laying things out that Ross realized it was scuba gear. Andrew set out the snorkels, flippers, hoods, boots and flippers before he went back to the closet where the full-body neoprene suits were hung up. He returned to the living room to lay out neoprene suits and started checking over the seems.

Ross stared in fascinated curiosity. This was something new. He hadn’t known that Jim did scuba diving. He had a feeling it must be a fairly regular past-time, however for both Jim and Andrew to have their own full sets of gear stored at home. He edged closer to get a better look.

‘I see you.’ Andrew said with a fake glare. ‘Don’t you come over here and start putting holes in things.’

Ross stared at the floor, at the continued compilation of evidence that Jim’s life had moved forward without him. His ears went back and his tail swept back and forth in agitation. He couldn’t do this. He ran.

 

If he wound up hiding under the pillows of Jim’s bed, it didn’t meant anything.

 

   *   *    *    *

 

Verity let herself into the empty flat and looked around. ‘Ross?’ she called.

He scrambled out of his bed at the sound of her voice and rushed to the door. He pressed himself to her ankles and purred happily.

‘Don’t do that to me. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Andrew says you’ve been terrible to Jim.’

Ross glared at her, ears back and tail curling. He sniffed and wandered over to the couch. He didn’t need Verity to tell him how to live. Nothing she could say mattered anyway, because she still had the capability of speech. Ross couldn’t say anything, couldn’t scream, couldn’t cry, couldn’t demand answers. He had a very long list of things he wanted to do but couldn’t thanks to the stupid fucking curse, but Ross would be damned if he couldn’t make Jim understand exactly how much pain he had caused.

‘He really doesn’t deserve it you know.’

Ross leapt up, sprawled himself over the arm of the couch and began to delicately lick at his paw. How could she possibly know what Jim deserved. Jim fucking deserved the worst that Ross could do and then some, because he was contained to the wrath he could direct as a fucking kitten.

‘You’re not going to listen to a thing I say about him, are you.’ and if Verity’s voice was edged with grief, then Ross ignored it.

‘Oh, Ross.’

Ross switched to grooming his other front paw.

‘Alright, fine. We won’t talk about Jim.’

Ross looked up and flicked an ear in her direction.

‘You’re ridiculous.’

Ross paused for a moment, then decided that didn’t deign a reply. He returned his attention to his paw.

Verity finally finished stowing her coat and taking off her shoes, and she walked across the room to join Ross on the couch. ‘We’ve got good news and bad news, Ross.’

He looked at her and meowed his curiosity.

‘The good news is that someone did turn your wallet and phone in.’ She said, reaching over to run her fingers through the soft down of his fur.

He pressed into the contact shamelessly, only half paying attention to what Verity had to say.

‘The cash was gone, but your license and cards were still there. The bad news is that you have absolutely and unequivocally lost your job. I listened to some of the voicemails you had, and your former boss was distinctly upset with you.’

Ross looked up and flicked his ears back, letting his claws sink into the fabric of the couch. The last thing he wanted to hear about was how every single part of his life was in shambles because he was stuck as a cat.

‘Fine.’ Verity said. ‘We won’t talk about that either.’ She let out a sigh, and pulled Ross into her lap. She bent to press a kiss to the top of his head. ‘I meant it though. We will get this figured out. It might take a little longer than we’d hoped, but we’ll get it.’

Ross purred and rubbed his face into her stomach. He wasn’t sure if he believed that he could be changed back, but he believed Verity when she said she would keep trying. It was unfathomably far from perfect, but for today, Ross would take it.

 

  *    *     *    *

 

When Jim and Andrew got back from their weekend, they smelled of sea water and peat bog, and Ross hated it. They were laughing and smiling and Ross hated that too.

 

He spent the next three days hiding in Jim’s closet, only coming out for food or to continue his war on Jim’s sanity.

What Ross was never expecting though, was to win.

 

It was late enough at night to probably be some time in the morning, and Ross was creeping towards Jim’s bed, intent to crawl up and make a nuisance of himself until Jim woke up. Ross had gotten on top of the bedding when he heard Jim start to pant for breath.

Ross started, and then continued his approach, more cautious than before. He could Jim’s eyes flickering behind closed lids. Suddenly Jim’s hand reached up to clutch at his pillow, and Ross could hear whispered pleas half-caught in Jim’s sleeping lips.

‘No. No, please no…’

Ross stared. He’d never seen Jim like this before; not ever. In all of the years they spent sharing their lives, sharing their rooms to when they began sharing their beds. Ross had never seen Jim trapped in sleep by terror.

The guilt that Ross kept in the back of his mind started to uncurl and seep by shades into his every thought.

Jim jerked to the side, and Ross had to jump to stay out of the way of Jim’s thrashing.

Ross had the sick, sinking feeling that maybe he should have listened to Verity. Listened to Andrew. Listened to _himself_.

Because this wasn’t Jim being okay, and Ross knew that he hand played a large part in dragging Jim down to whatever dark place he was trapped in now.

Ross was inching forward, trying to find a way to wake Jim up without getting himself tossed off the bed, when Jim woke with a painful sounding gasp.

There was a long moment when Ross stood on the bed frozen, completely at a loss for what to do. Jim flopped onto his back, and brought a hand up to his face. Ross could hear him taking long, steady breaths. It didn’t take very long at all for Ross to recognize the same breathing pattern he’d been taught when he’d just gotten out of the war.

The guilt was like ice to Ross’s heart. Jim wasn’t okay. Jim was healing.

Ross had been healing too, before. Before he’d become a cat and lost the remnants of the life he’d been scraping together.

Who was he to punish someone else for having better luck?

Jim lay in his bed, breathing to a steady four count, and Ross gave into his kitten instincts to hide from the things that were too big. He fled to the closet.

Ross didn’t know how much time had passed, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before Jim turned on the light next to his bed, apparently having given up on sleep. Ross moved to peer out of the door of the closet.

Jim looked haggard in the dim lighting. He scrubbed a hand across his face then rolled out of bed, weariness lining his every move. He stood still for a long moment, staring at the wall before he let out a deep sigh. ‘Fuck.’ His words were soft, but carried easily through the quiet of the room. ‘Fuck.’

Jim shook his hair out of his face and then walked slowly over to sit at the keyboard he had set up in the corner. He turned it on, and slid the volume level down to the point where it was barely audible. He pressed the keys lightly at first, testing to make sure it wasn’t loud enough to be heard outside the room. ‘Fuck.’ He said again, and this time it was thick and heavy with emotion. Jim pulled in another deep breath, and Ross could hear how it was ragged around the edges.

Jim left his fingers on the thin, plastic keys of the keyboard, playing aimlessly. It didn’t take too long before he circled back to the same chord progression he always fell into when he wasn’t thinking.

Ross slowly started to crawl out of the closet at the familiar tune. It could be a coincidence. The song had started because it was what Jim always played.

But then Jim started to sing. His voice was low and rough and choppy.

‘ _It’s the same words that you’ve heard before, but don’t you pretend that you’re bored,_

 _Superior Quality Mopheads, we’re gonna take the world by storm._ ’

Ross sat at the base of the keyboard staring. He’d expected a lot of things, but...not that.

Never that.

Because Jim had moved on. Jim had built himself a new life without Ross in it. Jim was successful; owned his own fucking pub in London, for fucks sake, and picked up diving gigs for fun on the side. Jim had no reason to look back at the fucking terrible songs that they’d written in school.

But here was Jim singing their first fucking song.

‘ _We’re the hottest thing that you’ve ever seen,_ ’ Jim’s voice was thick and tilting oddly flat. ‘ _You know you want to be on our team._ ’ He paused to swallow hard, ‘ _so get up on this stage.’_

There was no melody left in Jim’s voice as his fingers stilled and he whispered lyrics to the dull grey plastic of the keyboard. ‘ _Cause we’re living the dream.’_

Jim choked on a sob and curled into himself.

Ross stared, horrified. He’d been angry, yes, and he’d wanted Jim to hurt too, but not like this. This wasn’t Jim hurting and angry and ready to strike back. This was Jim on the verge of defeat, and Ross knew that he’d been far too much of the cause.

‘Fuck.’ Jim said again, as he sniffed hard and tried to take a steady breath.

Ross couldn’t take it. He hadn’t wanted this. Not truly. He’d wanted Jim to hurt, wanted to feel like he had any kind of control over anything. Ross watched as Jim’s shoulders started to shake with suppressed sobs, and he realized: he had wanted Jim to hurt, because it never looked like he did. Ross had hurt for years - Ross still hurt from what happened. When he’d seen Jim looking put together and whole, he’d been unspeakably angry. He’d wanted proof that he wasn’t the only one who had suffered. He’d wanted proof that Jim had felt even a fraction of the pain that Ross had felt when Jim had vanished.

Now he was faced with that proof, and Ross realized that he didn’t want it. Acid guilt started seeping through his veins. He didn’t want to see Jim like this, not if there was anything he could do. His claws extended into the carpet as a wave of helpless frustration washed over him,  What the fuck could he even do? He was a fucking cat.

Ross heard Jim’s breath catch and stutter, and he didn’t care anymore. He left his place by the bottom of the keyboard to wend around Jim’s ankles, purring as loudly as he could.

Jim looked at him through narrowed eyes. ‘I don’t think I trust you.’ He said. He let out something that might have been an attempt at a laugh. ‘Fuck. Verity had you pinned though. You’re just fucking like him.’ Jim ducked his head and wiped at his eyes. ‘Fuck.’

Ross butted his head against Jim’s ankle. There was a brief moment when he had contemplated leaving Jim to his sadness, but then he’d remembered. Jim had never wanted to be alone when he was struggling. Ross remembered the long afternoons when they hadn’t even spoken to each other, but the sound of someone else breathing in the room had been enough. He wasn’t about to leave Jim alone with this - especially not because he knew that he had helped to cause it.

Ross had been watching in smug superiority as Jim had gotten rough around the edges. He’d taken hollow victories from every time that he’d set Jim back. Now Jim was breaking and Ross needed to help. He needed to make it better.

Jim sniffed again and looked at him. ‘Do you promise to be nice?’ He asked, ‘I don’t know if I could take it if another Ross hates me tonight.’ He let out a sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh.

Ross kept up his purring and balanced on his back legs, resting his front paws on Jim’s shin. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but he wanted to help. Anything to ease the pain that was now so clearly visible in Jim’s wet eyes.

‘Fine.’ Jim said. He stood from the chair at the keyboard, reached down and scooped Ross up before walking over to lie back down on the bed.

Ross purred loudly, and nudged his head beneath one of Jim’s hands. Jim gave him a thin smile, but scratched his fingers into the fur of Ross’s neck obligingly.

‘I never meant for it to happen you know.’ Jim said softly.

Ross looked up at him with wide eyes.

‘Yes.’ Jim said, ‘Shut up. I know I’m talking to a cat.’ He rubbed behind Ross’s ears again. ‘I can’t decide if I think he would like you or if I think he would hate you.’ Jim sighed. ‘I just wish he was here. I never meant to leave. Silver took us out, and we’d spent fucking months refurbishing his stupid fucking boat. We were out in the bay, and I saw this corner, and it was all stained, and I thought maybe we’d missed something. It was just this stupid, shadowy corner. So I opened it up and, fuck it was just. Passports and money and guns, and I tried to put it back, but he caught me. He said he couldn’t let me go if I’d seen.’

Ross froze. He’d never heard this story before. He’d never found out what actually happened when Jim had disappeared.

‘I was so terrified. I thought he was going to just toss me overboard then and there. He said he’d give me a chance though. I don’t think I slept a night through for the first six months on that fucking boat. I was so sure that they’d dump me over the side when I fell asleep.’

Ross licked at Jim’s wrist. He wished so badly he was human, that he could pull Jim into his arms and pretend like that would be enough to protect them from the worst of the world.

‘It took him eight months to trust me enough to let me help with a job.’ Jim said, and his voice was distant and soft, ‘It took another six for me to have enough space to start planning a way out.’ Jim started stroking down the length of Ross’s spine. ‘I managed to get free, I got on the first flight from fucking Maluku to anywhere else. I had a fake passport, but it wouldn’t hold up to major airports, so I was doing everything I could to stay under the radar, hoping that if I moved around, maybe Silver wouldn’t find me.’

Jim’s hands tightened around Ross for a moment.

‘Fuck. And then. I finally got to England, and I called Mum, and she’d fucking changed her number. It was fucking disconnected. I caught a train back home, fucking knocked on the door, and she’d fucking moved.’

Ross pressed himself into Jim’s chest. Of course he’d known when Linda had moved, but he’d never thought about Jim coming back to find that everything he’d known was gone.

‘I fucking got home, knocked on the door, and a fucking stranger opened the door.’ Jim said, the disbelief of the moment bleeding into his voice, ‘and I was so fucking lucky, y’know? They were able to find her forwarding address. Fuck, that they believed me at all. They gave me her new number. I called her up, and asked where she was, and fuck, she was so gutted. She doesn’t say it, but I can tell, she still feels guilty, even now. I know she didn’t give up though - fuck. She just had to take care of herself.’ He pauses and glances down at the cat on his chest.

‘Ross - the other Ross. She had to fucking keep him in school, did you know that? He was going to drop out to come fucking look for me.’ Jim took another harsh breath.

‘Then he left for London, and she just couldn’t stick around anymore. Too many ghosts. My dad vanished when I was a kid, and then to lose me the same way too?’ Jim’s hands resumed their stroking.

‘It was the same reason she changed her phone number too. She thought maybe posting her number would help with the search, but she kept getting so many calls that weren’t me. She never fucking gave up on me. But she also couldn’t give up on herself. I showed up at her new house though, and I still had these hopes. I wanted everything to just work out. I wanted everything to be easy. None of it was easy. I was completely lost. I had to get my qualifications, I had to find a job.’

Jim runs his hands through Ross’s ruff. ‘I had all of these dreams, that I’d come back, and it would all be okay. That Mum would be there, and Ross would be waiting for me. But that’s hardly fair is it. I disappeared. For all he knew, I was fucking dead.’ He closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

‘Now he’s in the fucking middle of nowhere in Australia, and I can’t even talk to him. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Wait until he comes home?’ Jim put on an exaggeratedly congenial voice ‘“Why hello Ross! Yes, I’m not actually dead! In fact, I’ve been caring for your cousin’s cat for the past several months! Why yes! I could have fucking called you when I came back,”’ Jim’s voice lost the false bravado, and filled instead soft self-recrimination, and Ross hated it.

‘But you’d moved to London, and were dating Elizabeth, and I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t just call, not after everything. But how was I supposed to show up. Find him somehow in London, and just show up? How could that have possibly gone. ‘Hi, remember your old boyfriend? The one who got kidnapped a few years ago? Yeah, well, he’s so glad that you’ve still got a life, but he’s back now. Just wanted to let you know.” Hey- ow!’ Jim glared at Ross.

Ross hadn’t even realized, his claws had come out in his distress. He retracted them immediately and pushed his head under Jim hand, licking at his thumb.

‘Yeah, alright. I’ll forgive you.’ Jim said scratching along Ross’s neck and sighed again.

‘I didn’t know what to do. I can’t be angry that he kept going with his life. I was gone for two years. He thought I was dead. I didn’t know what to do. It had always just been the two of us. What was I supposed to do when I came back, and it wasn’t anymore? I couldn’t ask him to just let me back in. I don’t even know what I would have been asking for. I couldn’t ask him to leave Elizabeth, but I couldn’t just show up and ask if we could just be friends either.’ He sighed, rough and wet.

‘I don’t know what to do. Seeing Verity, I thought maybe I would have a chance, but then she told me he’s gone. I can’t even call.’ Jim took sniffed and pulled a hand away from Ross to wipe at his eyes again.

‘I think maybe I’ve just missed my chance. Maybe that was it for us. I could have maybe done something else. Talked to him when I got back. But I didn’t, and now he’s gone.’

Ross turned to lick at Jim’s hand. He hated this, hated that Jim was falling apart, and all he could do was watch.

‘Maybe it’s better. Verity said he never got over me, but, I think he will. He’s got a life, and I’m not there. He’s moving on. And I,’ Jim’s voice broke, ‘I will too.’ 

Ross’s ears went back. He didn’t want that. Not if he still had a chance. He couldn’t be this close to Jim and still lose him. He slid out from under Jim’s lax hand, and crawled up so he could curl beneath Jim’s chin, purring as loudly as he could. He hated this curse, he hated that he was stuck with no way to say anything. All he could do was press his face into the soft skin beneath Jim’s chin and give into the stinging prickles of hope that were starting to burn in his chest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright friends. Let's talk about bog diving okay?
> 
> THE BEST SPORT. EVER.
> 
> WHAT EVEN.
> 
> [This](http://www.dailymail.co.uk/travel/article-3196735/A-trench-filled-slimy-water-agonising-120-yard-dash-endless-bleating-sheep-bog-snorkelling-middle-Wales-craziest-sport-earth.html) is a bit about the sport.
> 
> [This](http://www.green-events.co.uk/events.html?id=57) is how you sign up if *you* want to give it a go! ;)


	4. Unlike Any Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are shifting and Ross is falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This never, ever could have happened without my own personal triumvirate of muses.
> 
> Endless thanks to [Pyxis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deanohell/works), [WeTheRebelSkies](http://archiveofourown.org/http://archiveofourown.org/users/WeTheRebelSkies/) and [My T-Rex Has Fleas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/works) for being cheerleaders, beta-readers, sounding boards, and endless fonts of inspiration.
> 
>  
> 
> Title from the Delta Rae song ['Unlike Any Other'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ei1qVAvx-js).
> 
>  
> 
> Also - please note, the rating did go up.

 

Jim was quiet the next day, moving slow; tired and worn and hollowed out from the night before. He waited until the light filtering in through the curtains of his room had turned a light enough grey that he knew the sun had risen before giving up entirely on any thoughts of getting further sleep. He sat up in his bed, and was met with a terrified yowl and piercing claws digging into his shoulder.

‘Ow fuck!’

Ross screeched again and tried desperately to climb up Jim’s shirt, fully caught in the animal instinct not to fall. Ross had been comfortably asleep, and had only woken when his perfectly warm bed had suddenly gone vertical.

Jim quickly got his hands up, getting a secure grip on the kitten. ‘Hey, hey. You’re okay. I’ve got you.’ His voice was soft and soothing, and Ross instinctively let go. If Jim said he was safe, then it was safe. Some things ran too deep to ever truly go away. Before Ross was awake enough to know himself, he knew Jim. Here, pressed solidly against Jim’s chest, feeling the vibration when Jim spoke, Ross knew everything was alright before he’d even figured out what had gone wrong in the first place.

Jim stood and then paused for a moment before settling Ross on his shoulder so he had a hand free to open the door.

It still took a few moments for Ross to work through the wave of adrenalin swamping his brain.  He was lying over the curve of Jim’s left shoulder, held delicately in place by his right hand. It wasn’t enough pressure to keep Ross there if Ross struggled; just a light touch to make sure that Ross wouldn’t accidentally end up sliding off. Jim was walking through the hallway, heading towards the kitchen. Ross twisted just enough so that he could lick at Jim’s fingers.

‘Rirmrir.’ Ross said, once he’d woken up enough to realize what was going on.

‘You gonna be nice to me this morning too?’ Jim asked casually, as he switched on the coffee pot.

Ross purred and tried to snuggle deeper into Jim’s shoulder.

Jim laughed and rewarded him by scratching around his neck. Ross purred louder.

‘You sound like a fuckin’ outboard motor, you know that, right?’

Ross didn’t care. He couldn’t explain, couldn’t say how sorry he was. He and Jim had always been tactile though, and so Ross was going to do everything he could, and hope that Jim would understand.

‘Alright. You have to come down though. I need both hands for this.’ Jim said, picking Ross off his shoulder and depositing him onto the counter, so he could go about actually making himself a cup of coffee.

The counter top was cold, and even worse, it was not Jim. Ross sat and waited patiently as Jim pulled a mug from the cabinet and retrieved milk from the fridge. It was when Jim was leaning against the counter, holding his perfectly fixed coffee in both hands that Ross saw his chance. He took a run to build up his speed, then leapt up Jim’s arm. He scrambled over the ledge of Jim’s deltoids and then pranced happily along the line of his shoulders before settling himself along the solid warmth of Jim’s neck, just below his ear.

Jim turned as best he could to look at the cat now riding passenger on him. ‘Yeah?’ He asked, still a bit in disbelief at the change in character that had taken place.

Ross’s response was a wide yawn and rumbling purr as he made himself comfortable.

‘Right, then.’ Jim said. He didn’t understand, but he also couldn’t deny that it made him feel better, so he decided not to question too much.

Jim hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he’d always thought of himself as reasonably good with animals, and the fact that his own cat had hated him had hurt more than he’d thought it would. Some cats were moody creatures, but Jim had always had fairly good luck with them. When Andrew had mentioned they were getting a kitten, he’d been ecstatic.

It had all gotten complicated when he’d learned that the cat was coming from none other than _Verity Poldark_ , and that she’d named the fucking cat _Ross_.

It had hurt even more that Ross hated him. Every time he would hear Ross and Andrew playing happily in the living room, and he knew that if he were to enter the room, Ross would either turn into a hissing wreck or pretend that Jim didn’t exist.

Jim sipped his coffee and tried to believe that it was a sign that things would get easier than they’d been for the past few months.

  
  
  


*    *    *     *

  


Demelza was seated at the table. It was hardly an unusual sight anymore. Demelza was no stranger to research - she had to keep up with her field, and had to maintain a competitive edge to her research to continue the grants that funded her work. Books, however, were not a part of her research. Books were too slow to be published to be helpful. Demelza’s research was scientific journals and online databases.

For the past few weeks though, none of Demelza’s research had been about gene-sequencing or attempting to trace the patterns of mutation. Instead, her research had consisted of huge, old books with yellowed pages and cracked binding and publication dates in the Victorian era. She was looking up microfiche copies of anything that could possibly be related to the occult and slogging through translations from archaic languages, trying to come up with anything that made sense.

In short, Demelza was researching magic.

Unfortunately, nothing that Demelza or Verity had come across had been even the least bit helpful when it came to finding ways to turn Ross back into his human self. The strain was starting to wear on both of them.

It wasn’t just the pressure of trying to find answers. There was also undeniable fact that they both _missed_ Ross. His darker moods and flaring temper had occasionally grated, but the three of them had lived together for more than a year, and his absence was keenly felt.

At first it had been simply forgetting not to make a third cup of tea in the mornings. Casual moments started to add up; when Ross wasn’t there to tease Demelza's atrocious handwriting when she would add things to the shopping list, or invariably know which counter that Verity had left her keys on. It had quickly grown to the nights when it should have been the three of them settling in to watch re-runs of late-night cooking shows. Instead it was Verity and Demelza sitting down to trawl through the endless pages of useless results from increasingly desperate attempts to google anything useful.

Verity let herself into the apartment, and set her keys on the table by the door. Lately even work had seemed fraught and exhausting. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch and watch television until her mind went numb.

‘How was work?’ Demelza asked, not looking up from the her notebook.

‘Thankfully over until Monday.' Verity said. 'Have you found anything?’

At that, Demelza put down her pencil and looked up. Verity was leaning against the door, face pale as she pulled off her gloves and unwound her scarf.

‘None of this is your fault.’ Demelza said firmly.

‘I know that.’ Verity said. ‘I got a reply from Amelia today.’

Demelza paused for a moment, trying to place the name. ‘She was the one who wanted to come see the room?’

‘Yes. She wants to come by next week.’

Demelza bit her lip, and the silence hung heavy between them.

It wasn’t that they wanted anyone new to move in. What they wanted was to find some way to bring Ross back. Wishes didn’t pay the rent though, and Verity and Demelza were both straining under the pressure of trying to balance work and school while feeding any scrap of available time into their search of answers for Ross.

Demelza looked down at the book in front of her, the threadbare fabric cover that had once been maroon and had since faded to a dusty brick red. She looked up at Verity and saw the way that her friend was slumped over. Verity, who was easily one of the classiest women that Demelza had ever met; who seemed like the epitome of intrinsic taste and inherent vitality. Now, she was wilting from the strain of it all, and Demelza wished ferociously that she knew of anything that could help.

She didn’t.

It was like trying to walk through half-dried cement, every step seemed slower and heavier. Demelza wished that she knew how to be stronger for Verity, but it was all she could do to keep going herself. She didn’t have Verity’s safety nets. If her work suffered, she’d be out more than just her schooling. On top of everything, she’d barely had time to even speak with Coral, let alone the time to actually spend together. There were far too many loose ends and Demelza didn’t know how to fix the situation. She was a scientist, and she prided herself on her practical nature. This curse though, was nothing she understood.

Demelza looked up at Verity. ‘I don’t know how to fix this.’ She said. It hurt to say the words, but she couldn’t continue burning herself out on dead ends. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

Verity looked at her, and Demelza could see the compassion and understanding in her eyes.

‘We do our best. We don’t give up.’ Verity said, ‘But we don’t lose ourselves either.’ She paused. ‘You look exhausted.’

‘As if you’re any better?’ Demelza shot back with a thin smile.

Verity let out a sigh, and then pulled up a seat next to Demelza. ‘Alright. How about a new plan?'

'Okay.' Demelza said, leaning in to rest her head on Verity's shoulder.

'We’re both going to take the weekend off.’

‘What?’ Demelza said, pulling back in shock.

‘Demelza, we’re not getting anywhere with this.’ Verity said.

‘I know that! But we can’t just give up!’

‘And we won’t! But right now we’re just staring at the same books and going in circles.’

Demelza couldn’t deny that point. She scooted her chair over, and pulled Verity close. ‘We will figure this out.’

‘I know.’ Verity said.

 

They both hoped they weren’t lying.

  


*    *    *     *

  
  


A few days later, Ross once again woke to the feeling of the ground lurching beneath him. This time, though he was quick to recognize the movement. He’d fallen asleep draped over Jim’s shoulder, which was fast becoming his favourite place to perch. It was warm, it meant that he was always wherever Jim was, and it smelled like Jim and safety and home.

Jim was adjusting to it fairly quickly as well, usually remembering to check if he had a cat on his shoulder before bending over to reach for things. They were still working out the rough patches on how Ross managed to actually get to said spot. Jim was sporting more than a few marks from when Ross had attempted the climb without the aid of Jim wearing shirtsleeves. Jim had finally picked up a thin running jumper at a charity shop in an attempt to save himself from at least some of the scratches that resulted from having a kitten crawl up his arms any time he stood still.

Ross blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings on what his human transportation was up to.

‘I fucking swear. I _just_ fucking bought socks. Where the fuck are they?’  Jim muttered darkly.

Ross realized with the sick, sinking feeling that had become so familiar over the past weeks what Jim was doing. Part of him wanted to run away, but he knew he’d been doing far too much running lately. He never would have put himself in this position if he’d stopped and _listened_ at any point instead of just running. Ross stood as best he could on Jim’s shoulder and yowled to get down.

‘Woah, okay, alright!’ Jim said at the sudden cacophony by his ear. He quickly scooped up Ross and set him on the floor. ‘What got into you?’

Ross looked at Jim solemnly before tugging gently tugging at the hem of his jeans. He walked a few steps before turning back to make sure that Jim was following him.

Jim wasn’t.

Ross stalked back, and tugged more firmly at the leg of Jim’s jeans. ‘Wyoar.’ Ross said.

‘Has someone fallen in the well, Lassie?’ Jim asked, and Ross could hear the frustration in his voice.

Ross tugged again, and this time Jim followed him, even if he was muttering about being caretaker of a possessed cat. Ross walked slowly into the hallway, then slipped into the closet where his shame was accumulated. He waited for Jim to open the closet door, and when he didn’t Ross started wailing again.

‘Fine! Fuck! You fucking _cat_!’ Jim shouted back, and then there was light in the back corner of the closet.

‘Mryar.’ Ross said, loud despite the fact that all he wanted was to be swallowed up by the ground. Why had he ever thought that war had been a good idea?

‘Where are -’ Jim froze when he shifted the cardboard box, and saw Ross’s eyes blinking at him in the dark corner at the back of the closet. Ross, who was sitting atop a huge pile of what Jim was willing to bet contained every single thing that had gone missing from his life over the past months.

‘Are you fucking serious?’ He breathed. ‘You fucking piece of shit! What the fuck is this?’

Ross cried and curled in tighter to himself, ears flat back and tail tucked in.

Jim pulled the boxes all the way out of the closet and stared in horror-struck awe at the sheer size of Ross’s collection. He leveled a glare at Ross. ‘I’m keeping a fucking eye on you from here on out.’

Ross whined and pushed himself deeper into the pile, trying to be as flat to the ground as possible. He knew that he deserved Jim’s frustration. He deserved any anger that Jim was capable of.

Jim reached in and Ross flinched back instinctively.

Jim froze, a look of horror dawning on his face when he saw Ross’s reaction. ‘Oh, no, Ross, no. I wouldn’t ever, no. Oh, come here...’

Ross slunk forward slowly, ears practically pinned back and staying low to the ground.

When he reached Jim’s hands he paused and looked up. Jim reached out and scooped him up. Ross found himself being pressed against the steady, solid warmth of Jim’s chest, Jim’s hands running along his spine in soothing rhythm. There was nothing that Ross could do in the face of it; held secure in Jim’s arms, close enough to hear the steady thump of Jim’s heart, where he could feel more than hear the low rumbling of Jim’s voice as he muttered soft calming nothings into his fur. Ross curled deeper into Jim’s hold, shoving his nose into Jim’s chest, and let it all wash over him.

‘No, shhh, you’re fine. I mean - fuck, that’s actually really quite impressive. And now I know. We’re going to be alright, it’s alright. I still like you, I promise. You’re a mess, and you’re the most stubborn cat I’ve ever met, but I wouldn’t have you any other way.’

It was there, cradled in Jim’s arms, listening to Jim’s words of encouragement and forgiveness, that Ross recognized the feeling curling through his chest. It was like swallowing too much air and diving into a pool. It was the aching itch of waiting for the signal to start the race. It was this feeling that was too big for his skin, and he thought that maybe if he had hands, if he could just _say_ something, maybe he’d be able to let it out. Maybe if he had still been human, he would have been able to _do_ something about it. Put words to the tight feeling twisting through his chest.

Ross was trapped in the body of a cat and trying to sort through the terribly human feelings that were steadily creeping into his life.

He knew that when Jim said he was forgiven, it didn’t mean anything. Because Jim didn’t know. Jim wasn’t forgiving him for anything that actually mattered. He would do the best he could with what he had. He wanted to make up for the months of chipping away, for every night of sleeplessness that he’d caused. He wanted to make up for the bigger things too, but he didn’t know how when he was still stuck as a fucking cat. How to apologize for not searching, for giving up too soon. Ross needed Jim to know there had always been space. There was no life that Ross knew how to live that wasn’t made entirely better by Jim’s simple existence. He couldn’t say that though. So instead, he pushed himself closer and vowed he would try to improve Jim’s life in every way he’d ever hindered it before.

Jim pulled him up and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, and Ross knew. Jim wasn’t who he used to be, but it didn’t matter. Ross was once again falling in love.

 

 

*     *     *    *

  


Jim wasn’t sure what to do with the fact that his arch-enemy of a house cat had somehow morphed into a duckling practically overnight. Ross would be at Jim’s heels - or riding around on his shoulder - from the moment that Jim woke up in the morning to the moment that he walked out the door. Not that Jim was complaining. He even had all of his socks back.

 

Andrew was perplexed as well. He’d always gotten on well enough with Ross, but now he was almost completely ignored. The only thing that would pull Ross from Jim’s side was when he had a length of string in his hand.

 

Thus, another competition started.

 

It was nothing like the endless war that Ross had waged against Jim for so many weeks. This was simply a friendly competition in order to gain attention from the kitten in resident.

 

Jim would sit in his usual corner of the couch with his laptop balanced on his legs, and his notebook on the armrest. Ross would creep across the floor, as if there was anything stealthy at all about a coal-black puff ball slinking across the light brown of their flooring (Andrew and Jim were too kind to point this out however). Ross would get to the edge of the couch and hide there for a moment, before darting out and running up Jim’s legs and onto the couch. Then, Ross would settle himself in the space that wasn’t taken up with a computer, curling up to rest in the crease of Jim’s lap. Ross would usually stay there for a little while, as if anyone was fooled by his apparent attempts at subtlety. It would never take more than a few minutes for him to pretend to get restless, and begin his trek to the space that had clearly been his intended destination the entire time.

 

Ross would stand up and leap off Jim’s lap and then proceed to climb up the arm of the couch. Sometimes, Ross still tried to climb up JIm’s arm, but that usually ended with clawed up shirts and swearing and Jim getting up to check he had any scratches that were actively bleeding. Climbing the couch was a far preferable option for everyone involved. Jim didn’t get hurt, and Ross didn’t find himself on the couch with his target sleeping spot casting him annoyed glances and swearing as he walked off.

 

He was always as careful as he could be to not knock Jim’s notebook of the arm of the couch for the brief moments that they were sharing the space. Ross would haul himself up, and then move directly to leaping up to the back of the couch. From there, he would run along the top until he could once again settle himself on Jim’s shoulder, next to his neck and hiding in the golden curtain of Jim’s hair.

 

Andrew had no idea when this had become the new standard. It wasn’t that he would ever begrudge Jim a more pleasant relationship with their cat. It was just that he couldn’t help but to feel a bit jealous that his place as Ross’s favourite had been so clearly usurped. So, Andrew started fighting back.

 

Despite Ross’s clear desire to always be sleeping on Jim, Andrew had managed to maintain his status as preferred playmate. When Ross was busy curling around Jim’s ankles, Andrew could simple drag a string across the floor, and Ross would forget all about doting on Jim.

 

The next breakthrough in Andrew’s relationship with Ross was entirely accidental. Jim had been out, and Andrew had been sitting at the table doing coursework. It was a rare, sunny afternoon and mostly quiet in the flat except for the occasions when Ross would suddenly pounce on nothing. Or the wall. Or attempt to catch something out of the air.

 

It took Andrew a while to realize what was going on. The sun was reflecting off his watch, and Ross was trying to catch the light.

 

The next day, Andrew came home with a laser pointer.

 

Ross, intellectually, understood that he could not catch light. However, there were some parts of animal instinct which were simply too strong to ignore - or it was just stupidly fun, but Ross would never admit to that.

 

Andrew would twirl the light around on the carpet, and Ross would chase after it, running in circles, pouncing on air. If he was fast enough, Andrew learned that he could swing the laser in a tight spiral, and if he did it right, he could get Ross to trip over his own feet and go sprawling on the carpet. It was a bit mean, but it was so worth it just to see the look of disgruntled confusion on Ross’s face when he picked himself up.

 

The other trick that Andrew learned with the laser pointer was the most dangerous of all: Andrew learned that the most powerful weapon in his arsenal was in fact the kitten himself. Andrew had to wait until Jim was fully immersed in his work, and then shine the laser on him. Jim would then get slammed into by a kitty-missile pouncing with all the force that a four-month old kitten could muster.

 

It was usually enough to get Jim to put his laptop down and join in. Those were the best afternoons. There was no competition. Just two men, a kitten, and laughter filling the room.

  
  


*     *     *    *

 

 

 

Verity had only knocked on the door a single time when it slid open slowly and silently. Andrew smiled at her, wide and bright, with a single finger pressed to his lips.

Verity tilted her head in question, and mouthed ‘What?’

Andrew just grinned and nodded for her to come in. That was when she heard it; the painfully familiar tenor, warm as it always had been, smokey rough around the edges. The words weren’t any that she recognized, but the notes held the same synthesized quality of the keyboard that Jim had dragged around to gigs for all their years in Cornwall. Verity pressed her hand to her mouth as she blinked back the tears pulled forward from the force of memory.

‘I didn’t know he still played.’ She whispered.

‘He hasn’t been for the past couple of months.’ Andrew said, ‘I was honestly starting to worry a little, But I woke up this morning, and it’s the first time I’ve hear him playing in weeks.’

Verity bit her lip, then turned to Andrew. ‘Because of Ross?’

Andrew frowned, ‘It’s just been a rough few months.’ he said, moving close so he could slide his arm around her waist. ‘I think we’re back on track now though.’

‘If it isn’t working,’ Verity said, ‘I know you took him as a favour. I know he’s been awful to Jim. If you need me to find him a different home-’

‘Stop trying to steal him back!’ Andrew said with a grin and a mock-glare. ‘We shall work through our differences.’

Verity smiled at Andrew’s clear defense of Ross’s place within the flat. ‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m not going to let you take my cat!’

‘Alright then.’ She said, feeling like her lungs had suddenly expanded. It was so much easier to breath than it had been only moments ago. She curled into Andrew and stretched onto her toes so she could reach him for a proper kiss. His hands slid to rest in the small of her back as leaned into him, only separating when they were both breathless.  ‘Shall we go find breakfast?’ she murmured, still close enough that her lips caught on his mouth when she spoke.

‘I think that sounds like a marvelous idea.’ Andrew said before leaning forward to seal the slight distance between them.

The sound of Jim’s keyboard danced around them as they stood in the kitchen, and let the world fall away.

  
  


*    *    *     *

  
  


Ross was curled around Jim’s foot, licking at the salty patch of skin in the hollow beneath the knob of his ankle.

‘You could do that any time, you know.’ Jim said sardonically. Ross kept licking.

‘See, I think you think that this is better.’ Jim continued.

Ross paused to stare up at him with huge, wide eyes. ‘Mwor!’ he said, before returning his attention to Jim’s ankle. This was better. It also had this lovely, salty Jim-taste and Ross was a bit disappointed that it had taken him this long to discover it.

‘I have to go, Ross.’

Ross gave a grumpy churr. Maybe Jim didn’t actually have to leave. Maybe Jim just wanted to leave but really the whole trip could wait until later. Ross paused his ministrations long enough to shift position. Once he was sitting solidly on the top of Jim’s foot, he once again took up his licking.

‘Ross.’

Ross purred and rubbed his face against Jim’s shin. He didn’t see Jim reaching down, only felt it when he was scooped up and deposited on Jim’s lap.

‘I told you.’ Jim said with a laugh at Ross’s disgruntled look. ‘I have to go.’

Ross pawed at Jim’s shirt, letting his claws out just enough to catch at the fabric.

‘Hey now. None of that.’

Ross plopped himself down into Jim’s lap with a pout.

‘You didn’t even like me a fortnight ago. Now you won’t let me leave?’ Jim asked with a laugh.

Ross’s ears went back and he whined. That had been before. He hadn’t understood, hadn’t been willing to admit. Ross had been so afraid to get drawn into the past, he’d buried everything. He’d hoped that if he could drown himself in his own anger, he wouldn’t be reminded of how much life without Jim had hurt. Instead, he’d simply made both of them miserable.

Life without Jim _had_ hurt though. It had been years of false starts and dead ends. Ross had been cut loose without the anchor he’d never even realized that he’d had. Ross had managed. He’d scraped together enough pieces to build back something that looked close enough to what he used to be to function. His fingers got burnt every time he tried to build something new, but he had never given up, never stopped trying. Ross had gotten used to the feeling never quite having the right shape to fit properly, and done the best he could.

In all of his frustration, Ross had forgotten how much better life _with_ Jim was.

‘Yeah, yeah. You’re sorry. I can tell. I forgive you. I still have to go though.’ Jim said, smiling fondly at kitten curled up in his lap.

Ross’s head lifted up. ‘Mrrrim?’

‘Yes.’ Jim said. ‘I have.’

‘Yiawr.’ Ross persisted.

Jim laughed. ‘It’s not like I won’t be back.’ he said as he propped his ankle up on his knee and did his best to pull his socks on without squishing the kitten that was still refusing to leave his lap.

Ross had a plan. He waited until Jim was bending forward to reach for his shoes before he once again bounded up Jim’s arm to drape himself over Jim’s shoulder.

Jim paused. ‘Is that your spot now?’

Ross purred happily and pushed his nose into the dip behind Jim’s ear. Jim laughed, and Ross could feel it vibrate through him. Settling himself deeper, Ross licked at Jim’s neck. He didn’t want Jim to leave.

Jim wasn’t the same young man that Ross had grown up with. Jim had shadows and sleepless nights and sometimes he stared out with tired, unseeing eyes, and Ross knew it was nothing he could touch. Jim had fire now, when he used to be cold and sharp in anger. This was Jim who had been forced to learn to take what he needed to survive. There was a look to him now that Ross saw sometimes, distant and calculating.

None of it was enough for Ross to do anything but fall. Despite the fire and the new, flinty-eyed look that had been absent from their childhood, Jim still drew Ross in. It was like gravity, the pull of the tide. Jim, laughing with Andrew over nothing at two in the morning was still the most captivating thing that Ross had ever seen. Every time Verity would come over, she would inevitably convince Jim to let her braid his hair. The clear compassion that Jim had for his employees, the way his eyes would shine when he talked of their antics at his pub. The way that Jim’s hands were always so steady and sure, either when pressed to the plastic keys of the keyboard or as they ran along the fur down Ross’s spine.

‘I know. I love you too Ross. I really have to go.’

Ross froze for a moment, then he remembered. It wasn’t like that, not anymore. It was just another dumb thing to say to a pet. It didn’t matter that Ross knew how the words used to taste on Jim’s lips. It didn’t matter that all Ross wanted to be able to do was to say them back.

This time, when Jim set him down, Ross let him go. The door opened and then closed, leaving Ross alone in the flat.

  


 

*    *    *     *

  
  
  


Jim blinked as he walked into the dimly lit coffee shop before casting about to see if Verity had already arrived.

It took him a moment, but in the far corner he saw her dark head bent over a mobile phone. He walked over and slid into the booth across from her.

She glanced up at the movement and smiled. ‘I started without you.’ she said, gesturing to the mug next to her on the table.

‘I can see that.’ He said with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

She smiled back but it was thin and strained. She picked up her mug and swallowed down most of what was left.

Jim frowned. ‘Is everything alright?’ he asked, but he kept tentative, as neutral as he could.

Verity looked at him for a moment, finished off the end of her tea then set the cup down with a thud. She turned and looked out the window.

‘I’m just setting up to have someone come by to look at the flat tomorrow.’

‘You’re moving?’ Jim asked, honestly shocked.

‘I’m not moving out, no.’ Verity said, her voice dull and hollow. ‘We need to get a new flatmate.’

Jim jerked to attention at that, ‘What? Did something happen to Ross?’ Verity turned back to him, and he thought that her eyes looked wet.

‘His job has been… extended.’ She said.

Jim blinked at her, still not processing what she’d said. His job had been extended? Verity had said it was a temporary position, but doubt started curling at the back of his mind and sliding down his spine. What if Ross was never coming back? What if he truly had missed his chance. Jim sat in the booth and tried not to feel like his life was crashing down. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known, hadn’t guessed that this would be the way that things were heading. He closed his eyes tightly and dropped his head into his hands.

He jumped in surprise when Verity’s hand came to rest on his shoulder.

‘He’s going to come back.’ She said softly. ‘He knows you’re back now. Nothing could keep him away forever.’ She didn’t quite sound like she believed it, but she sounded like she wanted to believe it.

Jim glanced up at her and felt burning behind his eyes. ‘Verity, he doesn’t even know me. It’s been years. I’m hardly someone he needs to come back for.’

Verity looked at him for a moment, and Jim honestly wasn’t sure what she was seeing.

‘Do you really think that?’ she finally asked, ‘Do you really believe that he would ever not come back to you if he had the chance?’

Jim frowned, ‘What?’

‘Jim,’ She said, and she pulled back and started rummaging through a bag that was next to her on the bench. ‘Hang on.’ It took her several moments, but finally she pulled out a huge, thick black binder, so full it barely closed, with loose papers ruining the line of the fore edge and threatening to slide out.

Jim stared. He knew that binder. He’d spent hours curled over it with Ross in the garage. They’d called it the Mophead Bible. It had everything they’d ever written together. The dumb songs they’d written while stuck in traffic jams, the pages of lyrics that they never got working quite right. Pages of staff-lined paper that they’d stolen from the music department and carefully filled out as they they fought with chord progressions and key changes.

It had been put together by their parents; Linda, Joshua and Grace finally tiring of the haphazard stacks of papers that Ross and Jim seemed to deposit in every corner. They had collected them all, punched holes in everything and put it into the largest binder they could find. There were plastic sleeves full of the scraps that were too small to go in as full pages. It had been a gift to the two of them on the first anniversary of the band. Jim looked at it on the table.

‘Verity,’ Jim said,  ‘you can’t give this to me.’

‘Jim, you don’t understand.’ Verity said. ‘Ross doesn’t play anymore.’

And that - that didn’t even begin to make sense. ‘What?’ Because Ross loved to play. Ross loved music. He never went anywhere without his guitar.

Verity pushed the binder across the table and looked Jim in the eye. ‘He hasn’t played for years.’

Jim knew he was probably gaping, but he just couldn’t believe it. ‘What happen-’

He cut himself off when he realized. ‘...When I got taken.’

Verity frowned. ‘He played a bit our last year of school. He didn’t have the band to write for anymore though. He sold the guitar when he came to London for Uni. ’

Jim’s gaze slid to the table. He couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to believe. ‘It should still be his though, Verity.’

‘Jim.’ Her voice was soft, ‘I saved this. He was going to throw it out. He doesn’t even know that I have it.’

That was something that Jim had no words for.

Verity once again slid the binder further across the table, until it was just brushing Jim’s fingertips.‘It doesn’t matter how long it’s been.’

‘He thought I was dead.’ Jim reminded her. ‘He mourned and moved on.’

‘You’ve changed too!’ Verity said, clearly not accepting Jim’s argument. ‘You’re not in school anymore! Neither of you are who you used to be! That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care! Do you really think that he wouldn’t talk to you now that he knows you’re not dead?’

‘Well it’s not like he has!’ Jim said, letting his frustration add a bite to his words.

Verity looked away. ‘That’s not his fault. He’s doing wetland conservation in the Outback. He’s not exactly got internet when he’s tramping around trying to count crocodiles!’

‘I know!’ Jim said, and then sighed. ‘I know. It’s just that, I wish…’ He shook his head. He wished so many things. ‘I just wish I could talk to him.’

‘You will.’ Verity said, reaching across the table and taking Jim’s hand. ‘As soon as he gets back, you’re going to be the first person he talks to, I know it.’

Jim gave her hand a squeeze and he did his best to smile. ‘Do you need another drink?’

Verity looked down at her empty mug and smiled. ‘I could do with another.’

‘You still drink Earl Grey?’ Jim said, standing up from the booth.

Verity grinned at him. ‘With just a splash of milk.’

Jim leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. ‘At least some things don’t change.’

Verity stuck her tongue out at him and he scrunched his nose at her, just as he had when they had been children.

They were both aching from the pointed absence of Ross’s presence, but they had been friends before. Jim was hardly about to let a ghost keep them from being friends now.

  
  
  


*    *    *     *

  
  


Ross pushed at the door to Jim’s room, padding softly inside. He was about to turn and push the door closed, when he heard it: the same horrible sound from the night of Jim’s nightmare. The same soft panting interrupted by an irregular catch of breath.

Ross bolted for the bed. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he could try to wake Jim up, perhaps. At the very least, be there as support for the inevitable aftermath. This time maybe he would be able to help more. Jim trusted him now.

Ross was now able to clear the bed with a leap. He landed softly on the mattress and moved slowly towards the pillow. Jim shifted on the bed and let out a soft moan. Ross paused, sniffing the air.  There was something off, something different. It took him a moment, but then he managed to place it; a distinct salty smell.

 

Oh.

_Oh._

 

Ross stared.

 

Jim moaned again, tossing his head against the pillow and arching up from the mattress.

Ross backed away, overcome with the feeling that he shouldn’t be there. If they had still been together - but they weren’t. It had been years, and Jim didn’t even know who he _was_. No, Ross definitely needed to leave.

‘Fuck, Ross.’

Ross froze. Jim’s eyes were closed, but there was obvious tension in his face, the way his brows were drawn up and the crinkle in his nose. The way the tendons of his neck stood out when his head tipped back.

‘Oh, fuck. Ross, please, Ross, yes!’ Jim’s voice was soft in sleep but rough with want.

Ross was suddenly flooded with memories: the way that Jim would perhorresce when Ross would trace the lines on his palms. The soft, sweet sounds that Jim made when Ross would work him through the aftershocks. The way that Ross was just tall enough, so that when inside Jim, driving slow and deep, he always seemed to get his nose into Jim’s hair. How Jim had always preferred having Ross on his back, so that Jim could keep a hand on his chest as he thrust in, and Ross had always felt like a completed circuit; Jim buried deep inside him, with a hand over his heart.

The nights in the darkness, when they curled together to fit on one mattress. Heat would spark between mouths, burning through them. Tongue and teeth, saliva slick between them, building hot, smothering thought. The way Jim’s fingers felt on his skin, wide fingers rough from sailing but so very agile. How Ross had felt transcendant that first time and Jim had barely gotten a hand on Ross’s cock but it had felt like swallowing lightning and trying to breathe in an earthquake and like some part of the universe had clicked into place. How they had barely caught their breath before rolling over and to start again.

He remembered the first time that they’d been brave enough to take their clothes off in the light. The way that the sun reflected off the downy blond hair that covered Jim’s arms, and Ross had been _wanted_. He’d wanted to push Jim down, to touch, to _consume_. The pounding electricity that took over whenever Jim touched him. To know that he could drive Jim to the brink, to know that with a single touch of his hand, he would be the only thing that Jim was thinking of. The afternoon heat had added to the sweat-slick of their bodies on Ross’s bed as they muffled their cries in pillows or skin of kisses. Before they had learned their own bodies well enough, and orgasms came like riptide; unexpected and swift and far too powerful to fight against.

‘Ross, Ross, Yes!’ Jim arched again, crying out once, soft and broken, before falling back to the bed.

The salty smell bloomed stronger in Ross’s nose as Jim’s breathing once again evened out.

A wave of despair crashed over Ross. That wasn’t his life anymore. Jim wasn’t his. He was a cat for fuck’s sake, trapped in some riddle of a curse that he didn’t understand. As much as he loved Jim; would always love Jim - could never not love Jim - but this wasn’t for him anymore. He shouldn’t have stayed. It wasn’t something that Ross had the right to.

‘Ross…’ Jim’s voice was soft and gentle and warm in all the ways that had always made Ross feel wanted; feel loved. It was everything that Ross found himself dreaming of, and here he was hearing it again.

Only it wasn’t for him, not really. It was for the Ross that Jim used to know. The young man that Ross hadn’t been for years.

‘Ross...’

Ross turned and fled from the room.

  
  
  
  
  


‘I think I’ve done something wrong again.’ Jim said once again leaning back against the counter, sipping at his coffee.

‘What?’ Andrew asked.

‘The cat has once again decided that I am the source of all evil and should be avoided at all costs.’

Andrew burst out laughing. ‘I’m sure it’s not that bad.’

‘It is!’ Jim insisted, though he was smiling as well. ‘I haven’t even seen him for the past two days!’

‘He’ll get over it.’ Andrew said. ‘Please, as if you’re not his most favourite person in the entire world.’

‘I think we might have two cats. Identical twins.’

Andrew laughed. ‘Sure Jim.’

  
  
  
  


The stalemate was finally broken later that afternoon. Jim was getting home from a check-in at the pub. He walked into his room and found Ross curled up into a small ball of coal-dark fuzz and fast asleep, shedding all over his pillow.

Jim smiled at the sight of the tiny, precocious kitten sleeping in a sunbeam. He sat carefully on the bed, doing his best not to bounce the cat awake. He reached over and ran his fingers gently along Ross’s spine. Ross lifted his head and blinked blearily at Jim.

‘Rhirrr?’

‘Did I do something?’ Jim asked, rubbing at the spot between Ross’s ears, ‘I like it a lot more when we’re friends.’

Ross yowled in alarm. It wasn’t Jim’s fault. Jim hadn’t done anything wrong - never had. The last thing Ross wanted to hear was Jim apologizing. He hadn’t known what to do, so he’d stayed away. Ross looked up and saw the hurt in Jim’s eyes, and cursed whatever evil fucking thing h’d crossed that had turned him into a cat. If he could just explain… The last thing he wanted was for Jim to that Ross was angry at him for any reason.

The cry that came out of Ross’s mouth was plaintive and heartbreaking.

‘Oh, no, no!’ Jim said, quickly picking the kitten up and holding him close. ‘It’s never something we can’t fix! I just want to know what I do that makes you-’

Jim was cut off when Ross started mewling, and pawing at his shirt. It wasn’t Jim’s fault! Ross couldn’t take it. He decided he would apologize properly if he ever managed to make himself human again. In the meantime, he would be more careful about dropping in on Jim. He would also do everything he could to be the best companion that Jim could ever ask for.

‘Oh, you want to go up to your spot?’ Jim asked, utterly perplexed by Ross’s behaviour.

‘Mrowr!’ Ross said firmly, nodding once, and then quieting down.

Jim stared. ‘You are the weirdest fucking cat,’ but he laid Ross on his shoulder anyway. ‘Happy now?’

Ross purred softly and licked at Jim’s neck.

‘Can you at least stop disappearing on me? I swear, you’re going give me a complex.’

Ross pressed against Jim’s shoulder for leverage as he did his best to stand up and rub his face frantically beneath Jim’s chin, churring out the most heartfelt apology that Jim had ever heard from a cat.

‘Fuck, okay, I get it!’ Jim said with a laugh, ‘You’re ever so sorry and it won’t happen again.’

‘Murr!’ Ross agreed, rubbing a little while longer, just for good measure.

After all, it had been a while, and Jim was missing the cat part of his smell. When he was finally satisfied, he flopped down against Jim’s shoulder, and purred happily.

‘So we’re good now.’ Jim said, just to check. He twisted to look at the cat riding passenger on his shoulder.

‘Mrow.’ Ross said, before reaching up to bat at Jim’s nose.

Jim laughed. ‘Okay then.’ He brought up a hand to scratch behind Ross’s ears, and was rewarded by Ross pushing into the pressure. ‘How about a song? We haven’t done that for a few days?’

‘Yawr!’ Ross said enthusiastically.

Jim brought up his customary hand to keep Ross on his shoulder then he stood and walked over to his keyboard. He turned to the cat again. ‘Do you want to help me write a new one?’

Ross sat up and purred loudly.

‘Alright then. I think this one is going to be called ‘Fickle like a Cat’.

Ross bit Jim gently on the ear. ‘Mrrr.’

Jim laughed, ‘Oh please. Like it doesn’t fit.’

Ross bit Jim’s ear less gently.

‘Ow! Okay, fine! How about ‘This Cat is Clearly King of the Flat’?’

Ross tilted his head thoughtfully before nodding. ‘Rryarr.’

Jim laughed again, and flicked on the power to the keyboard.

  
  



	5. No One's Ever Lost Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It might take a while, but eventually, Ross figures some things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, special thanks to [Pyxis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deanohell/works) and [WeTheRebelSkies](http://archiveofourown.org/http://archiveofourown.org/users/WeTheRebelSkies/) for being amazing, and letting me talk fic at them at all hours.
> 
> Also to [My T-Rex Has Fleas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/works) For reading things and generally being wonderful. <3  
>  
> 
> Chapter title from Amanda Palmer's song ['Lost'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ra4zy-IZQHQ).
> 
>  
> 
> This one is mostly un-beta'd so, if you catch anything, let me know!

 

Jim stared at the thick, black binder that Verity had given him so many days ago. He knew he was going to open it, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to. It was so much more than he ever thought he would have again, but it wasn’t enough; not nearly enough. It was just another of the many shards of what used to be. Jim knew that it would hurt to hold on, but he couldn't let go. As much as Jim had moved on, he couldn’t let go of the man who had been at his side for most of his life.

Holding the evidence of Ross’s decision and commitment to move on, Jim was faced with all that had come between them. The new lives that they’d built apart. The holes that Jim knew were filled by the way that Ross’s head felt against his shoulder.

 

Jim opened the book.

 

The first page, he’d seen more times than he would ever be able to count, the fading notebook paper full of potential band names, things written in pencil, in eight different colours of ink.

‘Cloudspy’, _‘Wall Tack’_ , _‘Phokis’_ , ‘Dank Rogues’, _‘Driftic’_ , ‘ **No No Ape!** _’, ‘_ Delusions of Profundity _’._

Jim kept flipping through the book. He knew every page, every stain, every dog-eared piece of paper. It was when he was nearing the end of the book, when it became typed sheets printed on crisp, white paper, full of all of the projects they had been working on at the time. Lyrics that had been scratched out time and time again. Notes written in the margins, ‘ **DRUM SOLO HERE???** ’ ‘NEEDS HARMONY’ ‘ _WTF THAT DOESN’T RHYME!!!!’_.

Jim reached the final page, shiny in its plastic covering and felt the nostalgia of it burn at the back of his throat, thick and heavy. He’d never thought he’d see it again, this compendium of of experience. He was unspeakably grateful to have it back, but the knowledge that Ross had been meaning to throw it away was like a white-hot wire being tightened around his heart. Verity had been very sure when she’d spoken of Ross’s feelings, and in most things, Jim would believe her.

This wasn’t something he could take on faith though. There was simply too much. Jim needed to actually _talk to Ross_. Which he couldn’t do. He sighed and turned back to the book. He was about to close it when he noticed that the page his fingers were resting on wasn’t actually the last one. He frowned. They hadn’t worked on anything else. There had been plans, but then he had been taken.

Carefully, Jim turned the plastic page and looked at the notebook paper that was behind.

It was written in pencil, with entire stanzas crossed out and re-written. The pencil was fading, and there were places where the blue lines had dissolved into ragged splotches from where something had spilled on the page. The titles were written across the tops of the pages, just as Ross had always done. The lyrics were scrawled out, crossed out to the point of being nearly illegible in some places, with chords written in over the top.

‘ _Echoes and Condolences_ ’, ‘ _Creeping Up (Verfremdungseffekt)_ ’, ‘ _ ~~L'esprit de L'escalier~~ Going Up_ ’, ‘ _Cracking Ribs_ ’, ‘ _Empty Seas_ ’.

None of it was anything that Jim had ever seen before.

‘ _Crossing Sideways’_ , ‘ ~~ _Fade Like Tracks'_~~  ' _ ~~Fade like'~~_  ' ** _Fade_** ’, ‘ _Through the Cracks_ ’.

Jim flipped through them all, trying to swallow back his rising emotion as he read through each page. This wasn’t Ross writing for fun. Jim could only imagine. There were no lyrics meant to be pop hooks. This was Ross writing his heartbreak. Ross who fought with words when he was speaking but always had the lightest touch when setting something down on paper.

The last page in the book was different. The title had been scratched out so many times that it was written small, pushed into the space of the top line, crunched in between chord notation.

‘ ~~ _Fucking Piece of Shit._~~ ’ ‘ _ ~~The Last Song I’m Fucking Writing For You.~~_ ’ ‘ _ ~~Jim’s Song.~~_ ’

Then there, in miniscule printing,  _I miss the way you talk in your sleep._

There was a weight to the final one, like there was something more to it than paper. Jim turned it over, and there, on the bottom of the blank page, an SD card was affixed with clear tape.

Jim stared for a long moment before erupting into a flurry of frantic motion. He bolted across the room for his laptop and his headphones. He returned to his bed, and clicked the memory card into place. There was just one file. Jim pulled it up, plugged in his headphones and turned the volume up.

It was easy for him to recognize the static from the garage. Whatever it was, it was a rough cut, it hadn’t been run through anything to cut down on the white noise. The silence drifted on for long seconds and then there were a few bangs, Ross presumably getting settled. There was a brief trill of guitar strings and then more silence.

Then it was Ross’s voice, deep and warm and rich. Jim closed his eyes at the sound of it. It was muted by the static, but Jim could still picture the look on Ross’s face, the light shining in his eyes as he built the smooth, rich foundations of melody. The way that Ross could convey so much more than words with just a single look.

At first, Jim was too swept away to pay attention to what was actually being sung. Jim restarted the song, and this time, he listened.

_I miss the way that you talk in your sleep._

_Now in this brand new quiet,_

_tearing down the walls like we never used to do,_

_lost in the space that should be filled with you._

_Does it get better? I don’t buy it_

_Night brought the secrets we could never keep._

_There are no ways that we used to walk._

_There are no places we used to go._

_Let ‘em talk, let ‘em talk, let ‘em talk,_

_They’re waiting to watch it unfold;_

_withdrawal from the addiction to time_

_burn down what can’t be sold._

_An unsuccessful paradigm,_

_like there was ever anything good in this town_

_Hands close around nothing,_

_no shadow to be caught._

_We went together and down_

_The last tower outgrown._

_Sometimes the best that you’ve got_

_Still leaves no chorus to sing_

_I miss the way that you talk in your sleep._

_I never knew what do with the quiet,_

_tearing down the walls like we never used to do,_

_lost in the space that should be filled with you._

_Does it get better? I don’t buy it._

_Not with our names carved in the concrete._

_Don’t you want to come out and play?_

_Destroy the focal point and laugh._

_Burn with the heat of the sun,_

_who said that hurting wasn’t fun?_

_Don’t even leave an epitaph_

_there’s nothing words can say._

_I miss the way you talk in your sleep._

_I miss the way you talk in your sleep._

_C’mon baby, just talk me to sleep._

 

Jim stared at the black binder and his laptop; the incontrovertible proof of Ross’s pain. Jim buried his face in his hands and cried.

  
  
  
  


The next morning, Jim woke with a spark in his mind and a fire in his fingertips.

He didn’t care if Ross was trekking through the middle of the outback. He was done being a coward. He was in love with Ross, and he was going to fight for it.

He turned his keyboard on and started to play. He was switching through keys, and trying out motifs, attempting to nail down a melody. For the first time in years, Jim thought he was composing a song that would actually matter.

 

 

*    *    *     *

  
  
  


Jim was not panicked. He was, however, in a hurry. The only problem with owning a pub was that if anything went wrong, he had to make sure that it all got put to rights. So when half of his staff called in sick, there wasn’t anything he could do but go in himself to try and make sure they got through the night.

It didn’t help that he had less than an hour’s notice. He swore under his breath as he grabbed a one of the many black elastic bands from his side table and pulled his hair back. He ran through the list of what he needed to do. His clothes were okay, he’d need an umbrella… He grabbed his coat out of the closet and pulled it on, shoving his keys, phone and wallet all into their usual pockets.

‘I’ll be back late tonight!’ he called out for Andrew.

‘See you then!’ Andrew shouted back.

Jim slammed out the door, and opened his umbrella. It wasn’t windy, but the rain was pouring down relentlessly. He made his way to the tube, and managed to make it on to the first train that pulled in to the station. It was standing room only once he was onboard, but Jim didn’t mind. It wasn’t a terribly long ride to the pub.

Thirty minutes later, Jim was letting himself in the back door of the pub. He shook the rain from his umbrella and rolled it back up, before heading to his office. He dropped the umbrella in the corner and dropped his coat on his chair.

It was only then that he realized he’d forgotten a scarf.

Or - he’d forgotten to  _put on_  a scarf, because he still had his living scarf draped around his neck. Ross was still draped across the back of his neck, purring evenly, and Jim honestly thought that the cat was still asleep.

‘Shit.’ he said. This was less than ideal.

He opened the door and stepped out into the kitchen. He was sure there was a box he could find somewhere. He could poke holes in it, and keep Ross out of the way for the evening. He was sure he’d have a very contemptuous cat when he got home at the end of the night, but it was better than any of the alternatives that Jim could think of.

He got about four steps into the kitchen when it started.

 

‘Oh, Jim, I’m so glad you’re here, we’ve got -  _is that a cat_?’

 

Then it spread.

 

‘Wait, there’s a cat here?’

‘Someone brought a cat in? Where?’

Jim knew he was fucked. ‘It was an accident. I need to find a box for him, he’ll be fine in my office for the night.’

‘How do you accidentally bring a cat in?’

Jim scowled as he felt his face flush red. ‘He fell asleep and I forgot he was there.’

By now, the entirely of the kitchen staff had crowded around to coo at the cat that was currently still asleep, and content as ever to stay that way.

‘You forgot he was there?’

‘Does he do this a lot then?’

Jim brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘Yes, he does this a lot. It’s kind of his spot. I didn’t even notice. I completely forgot he was there.’

There was a round of ‘ _aww’s_ ’ from the kitchen crew, which was, unfortunately, enough to attract some of the waitstaff. As the first few of his servers trickled in to see what the fuss was about, Jim knew he would never, ever live this down.

‘He’s so precious!’

‘How old is he?’

‘When did you get him?’

‘Aww, he loves you so much!’

‘Alright, enough!’ Jim said, throwing a hand up to stop the barrage of questioning. ‘None of it matters, because he’s going into my office for the rest of the night.

Nearly every member of his staff looked heartbroken at the prospect.

‘What? Do you have a better idea?’

‘You could always just leave him there, Boss.’

‘Yeah, he’s not causing any trouble!’

‘He’s still asleep!’

Jim let out a long sigh. ‘Fine. The cat can stay.'

A genuine cheer went up.

'Keep in mind!' Jim said, breaking through the noise 'That means I’ll be managing the floor tonight. And if anyone complains, he goes into the office.' Even Jim's reminders didn't bring silence the happy chatter. He shook his head fondly. He really did have the best staff.

‘Fuck, you’re all ridiculous.’ Jim said, smiling at his team. ‘Alright. Get back to work!’

Everyone streamed out of the kitchen and back into the pub, but virtually everyone managed to walk close enough to give Ross a scratch.

Jim glared at the sleeping kitten as best he could. ‘You’re so fucking lucky I like you.’ He huffed out a laugh, and walked out to the host desk in the centre of the floor.

It was the busiest night that Jim had seen in a months, but everyone was in inescapably high spirits, stopping by to check on Ross as the night wore on.

Jim was helping to put the last of the chairs up at the end of close, and he saw more smiles than he could ever remember seeing at the end of shift. Ross had woken up and was happily playing with the kitchen staff, who were dangling apron strings in front of him.

 

If Ross made any additional appearances at the pub after that, well. No one was complaining.

 

 

*    *    *     *

 

 

Jim was sitting on the couch with his laptop. He was humming absently, going through expense reports for his pub. He reached up out of habit to give Ross a scratch, only to realize that his living scarf was apparently occupied elsewhere. He frowned.

‘Ross?’  He waited in silence for a long moment before calling again. ‘Ross!’ He had a brief flash of fear that Ross had gotten out. He had a feeling that the cat was able to operate the window latches. He couldn’t come up with any way that he could have possibly gotten so many insect-shaped gifts in his shoes at the beginning of Ross’s stay. Though it wasn’t something cats were known for, Ross was impeccably trained to come when called. Or perhaps simply had good instincts for when he was wanted, because neither Jim or Andrew had ever done any training whatsoever with Ross.

‘Ross!’ Jim quickly shut his laptop, shoved  everything on the side table and stood up. He didn’t hear anything. The brief sparks of panic were starting to spread. Jim quickly went to check all of the windows, hoping that he wouldn’t find any that were open when they shouldn’t be.

Barely able to restrain himself from becoming frantic, Jim started his earnest search for the housecat.

  
  


Ross had been looking for the laser-pointer. Andrew was gone for the evening, but Jim was in. Jim was also being incredibly boring, so laser pointer was definitely the best option. Especially because if Ross could convince Jim to play with the laser pointer, it would inevitably degenerate to Jim just playing with Ross, and that was always a satisfactory end result. Ross had gotten quite adept at pulling open drawers and snooping through cabinets. He was also quite keen on watching where his humans were storing relevant toys.

Ross had climbed up onto the kitchen counter and pulled open the drawer where he last remembered Andrew putting the laser pointer.

Ross was not prepared for the smell.

It was amazing. It was like breathing in sunlight and swimming in good music and the taste of carefree day at the beach. Ross was breathing deeply, trying to pull in as much of the smell as he could, brain firing into overdrive. It sugar and adrenaline and being wrapped in blankets and jumping out of windows and midnight gigs and sleeping in the morning after. It was shimmering lights and the scent of flowers. It was _better than Jim_ and Ross _needed_ it.

He barely managed to get the drawer the rest of the way open before he toppled into it. There was a bag, full of some kind of leaf, and fuck, that was it, Ross needed it. He knew there was no way he would be able to undo the zip lock that held the plastic bag closed, so he went straight for the nearest corner. He needed it, had to get closer to it, wanted to bathe in it, wanted to breathe it in until it was everything.

Finally, he managed to chew a decent-sized hole in the plastic bag. He grabbed the container and tossed it around frantically, trying to get as much of the glorious smell out of the plastic as he possibly could. He didn’t actually get much out before his willpower gave out. He _needed_ the smell. He pressed his face into it, crushing the leaves in his enthusiasm, before wriggling around to roll in it properly.

 

It smelled _so good_ …

  


Jim probably should have been more calm after confirming that all of the windows were latched as they should have been, but he still hadn’t seen any sign of Ross. The cat wasn’t particularly loud or intrusive, but it was usually very easy to tell where he was in the house. The fact that Jim couldn’t find him, and he wasn’t coming when called was slowly but steadily ratcheting up Jim’s levels of distress.

He was practically running when he rounded the corner and saw the drawer that had been pulled out of the cabinet. Ross was sprawled over the edges of the drawer, his head hanging out and tipped backwards to rest at truly uncomfortable-looking angle. Drool was streaming from his mouth and his eyes were wide and vacant as he stared at the wood of the cupboards across from him.

‘Ross?’ Jim asked softly, approaching quickly. ‘Ross, are you okay?’

The cat lay unresponsive in the drawer. Jim’s mind was whirring to the hundreds of things that a cat could get into that would make them ill and unresponsive. He quickly scooped Ross up. That was when he noticed the flecks of green that coated Ross’s dark fur. Jim saw that more of the green covered the bottom of the drawer. He took a pinch of it and brought it up to his nose to sniff. It smelled like fresh mint.

He paused and then it clicked. ‘Fucking Andrew got you catnip, didn’t he.’ Jim muttered darkly. Ross still hadn’t blinked, staring wherever his head was pointed. ‘You’re fucking off your face there, aren’t you.’

Ross dropped his mouth open and his tongue lolled out.

‘Oh yeah.’ Jim said. ‘Off. Your. _Face_.’

Settling Ross safely on the floor, Jim got his phone out of his pocket. ‘C’mon, Ross, why don’t you show Andrew what happens when he leaves the catnip out for you to get into?’

Ross managed to lift his head up to look vaguely in Jim’s direction.

‘Yeah. That’ll do.’ Jim said, quickly setting his phone to its video recording setting.

  
  
  
  


Andrew put his arm around Verity’s shoulders and shifted to sit closer to her. Coral and Demelza were sitting across from them, sharing the story of how they met.

‘And then she actually said to me, ‘I wish I was a DNA helicase, so I could unzip your jeans!’ Coral said, laughing with delight. Andrew and Verity joined in, giggling not only with the clear absurdity of the line, but also with the indefatigable joy with which Coral told the tale.

Demelza was blushing bright red, but still smiling. ‘Well, it worked though, didn’t it?’

They all just laughed harder.

‘How about you two? How did you meet?’ Coral asked, nodding toward Andrew and Verity.

‘Oh.’ Verity said, the smile dropping from her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ Coral started, ‘I didn’t mean to-’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Verity assured her quickly, pasting a smile back on her face. ‘We just...’

‘Ross introduced us.’ Andrew said.

‘Introduced? Is that what we’re calling that now?’ Verity asked, her smile finally finding ground again.

‘Introduced after a fashion.’ Andrew amended, smiling and ducking in to place a kiss of Verity’s cheek. ‘It was raining, and I had some prints with me that I didn’t want to get wet. It started to rain, so I decided to do some work in the nearest coffee shop with an open table.’ Andrew grinned at the memory, before turning to face Coral and Demelza.

‘It was The Drip and Saucer.’ Verity clarified.

‘That’s where Ross used to work.’ Demelza explained for Coral.

‘Yes.’ Andrew said. ‘And Ross had been there for something like fifteen hours or something? Whoever had been scheduled to show up that evening hadn’t come in? Poor man was so knackered when I got there. He was just run off his feet.’

‘Mm-hmm.’ Verity agreed with a nod. ‘And I was meant to pick him up that day, but he couldn’t leave until someone else showed up.’

‘I went up to order, and he was delivering some drinks, and I didn’t see him.’

‘Oh no!’ Coral said, grinning and bringing a hand to her mouth.

‘I just backed straight into him! and I was so worried about not getting my papers wet that I got coffee all over my clothes.’

‘To this day, I’m shocked that he didn’t throw you out for that.’ Verity said with a laugh.

‘Oh, no, he wouldn’t do that!’ Coral protested, feeling obligated to stand up for Ross in his absence.

‘Yes he would.’ Verity and Demelza said in unison, and then burst into laughter.

‘He’s got a right temper when he gets going.’ Demelza said.

‘He didn’t that day, though.’ Andrew pointed out.

‘Maybe he was too tired to be angry?’ Coral suggested.

‘I don’t know if that’s possible.’ Demelza said with a grin. ‘Maybe the stars just aligned.’

Verity met Demelza’s eyes and she smiled brilliantly at the implication. ‘I think the stars aligned.’ She agreed, leaning in to Andrew’s hold.

He gave her a smile before returning to his story. ‘So, I was there, and my papers were dry, but I was sopping wet, and poor Ross just looked like he was an inch from burning everything down. Luckily Vee was there, and just carted me off, worked her magic so I didn’t have brown stains all down the back of my trousers!’

‘It wasn’t that bad.’ Verity said, with a laugh. ‘Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a few moments of scrubbing up.’

‘I would have been lost without you, Vee.’ Andrew insisted.

Verity rolled her eyes, but her look was fond. ‘Of course you would, dear.’

It was then that they were interrupted by a steel drums, and the unmistakable voice of Sebastian the crab singing about how life is better under the sea.

Andrew frowned and pulled his phone out of his pocked. ‘Hang on, it’s Jim.’

He flicked the call open and put the phone to his ear. ‘Jim? Is something wrong?’

‘You got catnip, didn’t you.’

Andrew blinked, thrown by the non-sequitur. ‘What?’

‘You got catnip.’

‘Oh. Yeah, I did, a few days ago. I read that it was safe to give cats when they were six months?’

‘You put it in the drawer.’

‘Jim, what-’

‘I’m hanging up on you. Are the girls there?’

‘Of course they are, that’s the point of a double-date?’

‘Right. I’m sending you video. You have to share it with them.’

‘Okay?’

‘I’ll know if you don’t.’

‘Jim what-’

‘Ross found it.’

‘Oh!’

‘He’s been staring at the wall for the past ten minutes.’

Andrew started to laugh. ‘He found my stash and OD’d?’

‘He is so fucking high right now.’

Andrew couldn’t stop laughing. ‘Send me the video. Hang up. Send me the video.’

‘Will do.’ Jim said ‘Tell everyone hi from me! Have a good night!’

‘Of course. You too!’

Jim rang off. Andrew put his phone on the table and turned to the girls. ‘I picked up some catnip the other day for Ross, and apparently he found it this evening. Jim is sending us video.’

Verity met Demelza’s eyes, and they both burst into laughter.

‘He needs to send it to me too.’ Verity said, pulling out her own phone to send a text to Jim, to make sure she was included in the video distribution.

Their phones went off mere moments later. Andrew’s phone had the bigger screen, so he pulled the video up, and they all crowded around it to watch.

Demelza looked up at Verity. ‘We’re keeping this forever, right?’

Verity grinned back. ‘Absolutely.’

  
  
  
  


It was late when Andrew came home, and Verity was with him. It had been a good night, the company of friends more than enough to burn through the shadow of stress and tension that had been building as everyone kept running into the rough edge of Ross’s glaring absence.

Demelza and Verity in particular were feeling the strain, as they fought to keep themselves afloat despite the additional financial strain without Ross’s addition to the rent. Every spare moment they had was being poured into extra shifts. What spare time they had left over was being allocated to research of the arcane in increasingly desperate attempts to find out a way to get Ross back.

A night out had been exactly what they had needed. An evening away from the guilt and responsibility of their fruitless search. When the evening had been winding down and Andrew had asked her to stay the night, Verity had shared a glance with Demelza and quickly taken him up on the offer.

Coral and Demelza had gone back to the flat, and Verity knew better than to interrupt them until afternoon at the earliest. She was looking forward to the break, and the time with Andrew. They had just gotten into the apartment when Verity pulled Andrew in for a long, slow kiss. It was relief and and delight and want. Andrew hummed into it and let his hands fall to her hips. It was timeless moments of bliss before they pulled apart.

Andrew kissed her again, and laughed. ‘Or I could take your coat?’

‘Oh, you mean I get to stay?’ She joked back.

‘Always.’ Andrew said, his voice serious despite the levity shining in his eyes. ‘I’ll go put the kettle on?’

‘You’re a god among men.’

Andrew laughed and left for the kitchen, while Verity stowed her things on the hooks by the door.

She turned around and saw the last thing she expected. Ross, silent and surprisingly sober as he padded towards her.

‘Oh! Oh Ross.’ She knelt down, and he ran into her arms, purring when she pulled him close.

‘How are you? Are you feeling alright?’

His ears went back and he gave her a baleful look.

‘Of course I know about that.’ she said, laughing, ‘You think I wouldn’t get Jim to send me the video?’

Ross yowled in displeasure and started wriggling to get away.

‘Ross, no. Wait just a moment. I have to tell you something.’

He stopped struggling when he heard all traces of mirth leave her voice. ‘Rwar?’

She set him back down on the floor so she could meet his eyes. ‘Ross. Demelza and I - we’ve had to put your room up.’

Ross’s tail started to slide back and forth across the floor. ‘Mrawr.’

‘We’re trying everything we can, but it’s been months. We need a third person.’

Ross stared at her for a moment, needing to process everything. Of course they were searching. Verity had told him that they would be. He couldn’t tell them that they wouldn’t be able to help. He was cursed. He’d have to figure it out on their own. It wasn’t fair to ask them to wait forever, when Ross himself was beginning to lose hope that he would ever get back to normal.

Ross dropped low to the ground and slunk forward to press his nose into Verity’s wrist.

It hurt. It was yet another painful reminder of his own failures, but it wasn’t her fault. She was doing far more for him than she needed to anyway. He wished he could tell her, wished he could explain. None of this was ever her fault. It wasn’t her problem to solve. Ross swallowed back his anger and his frustration and licked at Verity’s arm.

‘Oh, Ross.’ Verity said softly, ‘I love you too.’ She picked him back up and cradled him against her chest. ‘I love you too.’ She buried her nose in his ruff, and continued to speak about how the work that she was doing with Demelza.

It was then that Ross realized: it didn’t matter if it was his problem. It never had. Verity would have been doing everything she could to help anyway, just as she always had. Even if it was a situation that he had brought upon himself by losing his temper in school, or if it was some horrifying decision from cosmic forces to turn him into a cat. Verity would be there by his side, as she always had been.

He curled deeper into her shirt and purred. When he was back to normal, he swore he would tell her. She was family, yes, but she was one of his best friends. His love for her was a choice, not an obligation, and he would make sure she knew it.

  
  


*    *    *     *

  
  
  


It was late in the morning when Verity woke up, smiling at the satisfied soreness that lingered in her muscles. She stretched luxuriantly and checked the time. It was only mid-morning, so she had plenty of time to enjoy herself. She was contemplating rolling over and going back to sleep for a while when Andrew poked his head in the door.

‘Morning Vee.’

‘Mmm.’ She said with lazy, contented smile, ‘Morning.’

‘I was thinking of making french toast?’

‘That sounds marvelous.’ Verity said, delighted at the prospect. ‘Though I think it french toast might need something to go with it.’

‘French toast does not need anything to go with it.’ Andrew said with a laugh, ‘You just want bacon too.’

She sat up with a grin. ‘You know me too well.’

‘Or maybe just well enough.’ Andrew said. ‘I don’t know though. I think I might have to be convinced about bacon.’

‘Oh will you?’ Verity said, sliding out of the bed and walking to the doorway where Andrew stood.

‘I think so.’

Verity leaned forward and caught Andrew in a sloppy kiss. She pulled him down to her so she slide her tongue into his mouth, wet and slick, with just enough suction to make him groan. She kept their mouths connected until she had completely run out of breath. She pulled away and rested her head on his chest.

‘Convinced yet?’

Andrew was panting, but he grinned anyway. ‘It was a persuasive argument, but I’m still not sure.’

Verity bit at his shoulder playfully. ‘Fine then.’ She turned her face back up to his and pulled him down for another kiss. This time, when she pulled away, she gave him a shove. ‘Now. Go make me breakfast.’

He laughed, and gave a bow. ‘As my lady commands.’

‘I’ll be out in a moment.’ Verity said giggling at her boyfriend’s antics.

‘Take your time.’

‘I like helping you cook.’ Verity said.

‘I like you.’ Andrew replied, ducking in for another quick kiss.

‘I love you too.’ Verity said, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. ‘Now, get. I’ll join you in a minute.’

Andrew nodded and headed down the hallway.

‘And put the kettle on!’ Verity called after him.

Andrew’s laughter was the only response she got. She smiled ruefully and pulled on a robe. She truly had found the most amazing man.

  
  


 

They were sitting down to eat, when Verity heard it.

Jim had been at the keyboard all morning, much to Andrew’s fond irritation. ‘He’s working on a new song?’ Andrew had said, ‘He won’t stop fucking playing it. I mean. It’s nice and all but…’

Verity laughed. ‘I grew up with him, remember? Trust me, I know.’

Andrew grinned at her. ‘Was it just the same thing over and over again?’

‘Oh, it was worse. Jim has such a head for melody, but Ross was always the one who did the lyrics, so sometimes it wasn’t even an entire song. It was just a few bars, over and over because they couldn’t decide on how many syllables they needed to have in a line.’ She laughed at the memories. ‘There was this one, I think it was called ‘Classy Action’ or something like that, and it took them months to decide on how the chorus would go. I swear, we were all about ready to murder them by the time they made their minds up.

Andrew smiled, but it wasn’t as bright as before. ‘Ross _is_ okay, isn’t he?’

Verity frowned at the unexpected turn in conversation. ‘Of course! Why wouldn’t he be?’

‘It’s just that he left on such short notice. I didn’t even know he was thinking of leaving the country.’

Verity bit her lip. She despised lying to Andrew and Jim. She just didn’t think she knew how to say that Ross had been magically turned into a cat in a way that would make anyone believe her. It was worse because Andrew and Ross had been friends. She didn’t know how to explain that he’d just disappeared without a word to anyone. ‘He seemed really excited about it when he left. I think he was keeping it quiet because he didn’t think he’d get the job. He got the call and it was just all so last-minute…’

‘And now he’s in Australia.’

‘Now he’s in Australia.’

‘Have you talked to him at all? Is he doing alright?’

Verity tried to keep her emotions off her face. She hated this. ‘I think he’s doing very well. I don’t hear from him often. He’s sort of out in the wilds. There’s not a lot of cell coverage there.’

‘Right, right.’ Andrew said, ‘Of course.’

Verity paused, and saw the sadness in Andrew’s face. ‘I’m sorry he didn’t tell you.’ She said gently.

‘It’s fine!’ Andrew looked up at her with a wry grin. ‘I just kind of miss the guy, y’know?’

‘Yes.’ Verity said, her absolute understanding of the sentiment lending gravity to her tone, ‘I understand.’

A sudden yowling interrupted them.

Verity turned to Andrew, looking utterly perplexed. ‘What is that?’

‘Oh, that’s Jim’s back-up singer.’ Andrew said, smiling.

‘What?’

‘Ross likes to sing along.’

‘Oh.’ Verity brought her hand to her mouth, biting her lips to try and hold back the sudden wave of emotion that was threatening to crest over her. ‘Of course he does.’

‘Do you want to see?’ Andrew asked.

Verity swallowed thickly and nodded. ‘Yes. Yes I do.’

‘Okay. We have to be quiet though. Ross runs away if he knows we’re listening.’

Verity closed her eyes, because of course he did. It was so like Ross, never ready to let anyone hear a song until it had been finished.

They stalked silently through the hallway to Jim’s door. Gently, Andrew pushed it open, careful to make no sound. The two of them peered through the crack in the door. Ross was sitting on the black casing of the keyboard while Jim played.

‘Okay,’ Jim said, ‘You ready for the chorus?’ His fingers moved along the keyboard, and Ross threw his head back and sang along.

Verity pulled out her phone, pulled up the video settings and quickly hit the record button.

Jim played and Ross sang, and Verity knew with the certainty of the ages, that what they had was meant to be. They would find a way to break the curse, and Ross and Jim would have each other once again. Some things ran too deep to ever truly change. Ross and Jim were one of them.

  
  
  


 

*    *    *     *

  


Jim sighed again in frustration and let the notebook fall onto his stomach as he flopped back onto the bed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there, caught in the contemplation of syllable patterns when he noticed that his door was slowly being pushed open. Jim glanced towards the floor, and saw the small, black face poking in.

‘Hey there my little man!’ Jim said with a smile, do you want to come help me with this?

‘Mrow!’ Ross said enthusiastically, pushing through the door and bounding over to leap up onto the bed. ‘Rrrow.’ He said, crawling over to before draping himself over Jim’s neck. He shoved his nose into the space behind Jim’s ear and licked, purring loudly.

‘Oh, thanks Ross!’ Jim said sarcastically, ‘I really need that!’

Ross ignored him.

‘I really do know to clean behind my ears you know.’ Jim said, talking just for the sake of talking. He could feel the vibrations of his own voice under the weight of Ross’s body. ‘I promise.’

Ross finally deemed himself satisfied, then turned around to stand on Jim’s chest and stare him down. ‘Ywir?’

‘Okay. I need your help with this.’

Ross sat down.

‘I’m no good with lyrics.’ Jim said.

‘Myowr.’ Ross said, knowingly.

‘Hey! You weren’t supposed to agree with me!’ Jim said with a laugh.

Ross just blinked at him innocently in reply.

‘Uh-huh. Yeah. You think I’m not on to you, but I am.’ Jim glared for a moment before he sighed again. ‘I just. Fuck. The shit he wrote. I need to say something back, I need him to know it really wasn’t just him. It never was. I know we’ve both been through a lot, but I just know. He would be able to take my shit and just fucking make it _shine_.’

Ross whined and felt the now too-familiar feeling spreading through him. He didn’t want to be a cat. He wanted to be himself. He wanted to be able to take Jim’s hand and taste Jim’s mouth. He wanted to be able to sit on Jim’s bed and write new songs together.

Because Jim really was shockingly shit with lyrics.

‘Don’t give me that look.’ Jim said. ‘This has got to be perfect. I don’t get another chance for this.’

Ross cocked his head in question.

‘I’ve got to get this right. He wrote me the most beautiful poetry, and I know that all I’ve got is fucking nursery rhymes, but I need him to know. I wish there were better words for this shit. I mean - fuck. Ross would probably know them. I don’t though.’

Ross’s tail flicked. He hated how despondent Jim sounded. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it either, He was still a cat. He pushed himself down onto Jim’s chest, rubbing his head over the space above Jim’s heart.

‘I know we’re not kids anymore, but this - this has to be enough. I just need to be able to convince him to talk to me.’ Jim brought one hand up to run through Ross’s fur absentmindedly. ‘I just want him to come _home_. He sighed again. ‘I know it’s stupid, but I just wish. Verity says he’s knows I’m here but I just. I guess I still hoped I would be enough for him to want to come back for me. She says he still loves me, but he won’t even talk to me.’

Ross whined. He would have. He would have crossed oceans to get to Jim. He would have done anything in his power to make sure they were back together.

‘It was easier before, but she’s over all the time now, and she talks about him all the time, and I can’t-’ Jim’s breath caught, ‘I can’t even pretend that I don’t still love him.’

Ross blinked. Surely he couldn’t have heard that correctly.

Jim sniffed. ‘I just. I want him to come back. I want him to be _here_. I would teach him to dive, and he’d make fun of my hair, and I just _miss him so much_. I keep thinking that If I stay busy or I don’t think about it, it’ll get better, and maybe it does, but it just doesn’t stop, because I don’t care how long it’s been or what’s happened, _I still fucking love him_ and I just want him to _come back_!’

Ross’s mind was a whirl, because he knew Jim. He knew what Jim sounded like happy, sad or frustrated. Ross knew what Jim sounded like, when he was admitting the softest, most delicate parts of himself.

This - this was something that Ross believed. The way that Jim brought his hands up to rub the tears from his eyes. The way his voice dropped low and smokey, like he was afraid that anyone could overhear.

‘Damnit, Ross. I fucking love you, and I fucking wish you were _here_.’

Ross was caught in the rush of blood pounding through him. Jim was still in love with him.

_Jim was still in love with him._

Jim was still in love with him.

Despite everything, Jim coming home to an empty house, finding out about Ross’s relationship with Elizabeth. Even now, Jim believing that Ross was alive and well in Australia and simply choosing to not make contact.

_Jim was still in love with him._

Ross felt like his heart was breaking and growing at the same time. If only he was human! They’d be able to make this work, he knew it. They had both changed, but that wouldn’t ever stop. They would never stop changing. Change was nothing in the face of how deeply they still wanted each other. There was no world where they wouldn't find some way to fit. It might not be the same as it was before, but Ross knew in that moment that no matter what it would still be just as good. They weren’t children, they weren’t growing up. They were their own people, but they were better together. Meant to stand beside each other.

They’d faced hardship, but Ross new that they were still some of the lucky ones. There could have been others, but Ross would never have to find out, because he had Jim.

Jim, who was still kind and beautiful and made Ross better. Jim, who pushed Ross to _think_. Jim, who was still in love with him.

 

There was a crash that sounded like mountains collapsing and tidal waves crashing. There was a flash of light that was bright like lightning and felt like infinity and nothing. There was a moment where Ross felt like every single nerve ending was being shocked, and like the universe was holding its breath.

 

Ross came back to himself completely unsure of what had just happened.

 

Then he realized that he was  lying prone on top of a warm body. He also wasn’t wearing any clothes. Ross blinked, and wiggled his toes. For the first time in months, he could feel them moving at the end of his legs. He was human again! Jim was still beneath him though, unnaturally still, eyes wide and mouth slack in shock. Ross blinked and the movement felt slow, like the air was thicker than it should be.

Ross stretched out his hands, feeling the burn along his fingers, but it lethargic and disconnected.

Ross braced his hands on Jim’s mattress and pushed himself up, looking around. Everything in the room seemed just a little bit wrong, too silent, too still. Then, the grinding, booming non-voice that had haunted him for the past months spoke again.

‘ _You have accepted this love that is pure and true._ ’ the voice said. ‘ _You have been released have succeeded in your trial._ ’

‘Accept the love that is freely given...’ he murmured to himself. Surely it couldn’t have been that simple.

‘ _Know this lesson and hold it close._ ’

There was another lightning-crack and the world restarted.

‘FUCKING SHIT, ROSS?’ The magic washed over him, but Jim still couldn’t quite believe.

‘Hi?’ Ross said sheepishly, quirking an eyebrow.

‘What? What? You were - oh, fucking fuck, you actually were the cat?’

‘Uhm. Yes.’

‘Fuck, Ross.’ Jim’s eyes were still wet, and his voice held enough emotion that it would have taken Ross weeks to pick it all apart. So Ross didn’t. He shifted his weight onto his forearms and leaned up so he could meet Jim’s gaze properly.

‘I still love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you.’

Jim let out a choked noise before reaching up to Ross’s hair and guiding their mouths together. They fit together like they always had, knowing just when to lean in and just when to pull back. Their lips crushed together, tongues sliding against teeth.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed before they finally pulled away from each other.

Jim reached over and ran the back of his hand along the line of Ross’s cheekbone. ‘Fuck. You’re really here.’

‘I’ve been here the whole time.’

Jim smiled. ‘I love you too.’

Ross smiled and dropped his head to rest on Jim’s shoulder.

Jim ran his hand along Ross’s back. ‘Maybe we should find you some clothes though?’

Ross laughed. ‘That would be great.’ He paused for a moment before adding ‘And, I would kill for some tea.’

Jim’s laugh was brilliant and echoed through the room. Ross let himself get lost in the sound.

 

 

They were together, and nothing would ever pull them apart again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have been enjoying this ridiculous romp through Kitten Shenanigans!
> 
> All we've got left is the epilogue.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with all good films from the 1970's, this one ends with a group musical number!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, for my friends: [Pyxis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deanohell/works), [WeTheRebelSkies](http://archiveofourown.org/http://archiveofourown.org/users/WeTheRebelSkies/) and [My T-Rex Has Fleas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/works)
> 
> Un-beta'd. If you find anything, please let me know! Constructive criticism always welcome!

Jim stood in the hallway for a moment and forced himself to breathe. Ross was in his room, on his bed. Ross had been his cat for nearly half a year. He stared at the closet. At first, he wasn’t sure how much to admit, then he reminded himself - Ross already knew.

Ross had been been there for countless nights. Every afternoon Jim had come back from seeing Verity and needed tell someone, anyone, how much he wanted to be talking to a different Poldark. When Jim would hit a stumbling block and be reminded that he wasn’t quite as over his past as he sometimes liked to pretend to be. Through it all, there would be a black puff-ball of cat that would wander over and sit on his chest, purring as Jim unloaded his troubles.

Everything that Jim had been going through, everything he had been thinking, Ross already knew.

Jim reached into the closet, and grabbed a faded black pull-over from the back. He folded it over his arm, then grabbed a pair of Andrew’s trousers off the drying rack. He knew that his own had no hope of fitting Ross.

He walked back into the room and tossed to clothes at Ross. ‘Try these. I’ll go put the kettle on.’

Ross smiled at him, but it was thin and strained.

Jim frowned. ‘Something wrong?’

‘No.’ Ross said. His brows drew down.

Jim had forgotten how stormy Ross could be, his aquiline features only accentuated by the scar that ran down the side of his face.

‘I need to talk to Verity.’ Ross said, looking up.

‘Oh, shit! Yes.’ Jim said, suddenly realizing. It made sense that Ross looked tense. He hadn’t been in Australia. He had an entire life to put back together. ‘I think your room is actually still open.’

‘Really?’ Tentative hope was shining in his eyes, and Jim’s heart ached at the sight of it.

‘I met up with her yesterday and she was saying that they’re still talking to people.’ He paused. ‘How about this: I’ll make us some tea, you clothes on, and then we’ll just go over there?’

‘Would she not be at work?’

‘It’s Sunday Ross.’ Jim said, drily.

Ross shot him an unimpressed look. ‘Because I had so much reason to be keeping track of days as a cat?’

Jim snorted. ‘Apparently not.’

Ross narrowed his eyes for a moment before dropping the glare. ‘You wouldn’t mind though?’

Jim blinked. ‘What?’

‘Coming with me. I’d like it if you did.’

Jim stared. He couldn’t read what Ross was thinking, didn’t know where his thoughts were taking him. ‘Of course I will.’

Relief broke over Ross’s features. ‘Thank you.’

‘Of course.’ Jim repeated, with a smile. He still didn’t understand how Ross had become a cat, let alone what had turned Ross back from being a cat. He didn’t care though. He couldn’t put a number to the amount of times that he’d wished he would one day see Ross sitting on the bed of this flat, of a new space that wasn’t the walls they had grown up with. He gave Ross a nod and then turned from the doorway and headed into the kitchen, leaving Ross to get dressed.

 

 

Jim had just gotten travel mugs sorted out when Ross wandered into the kitchen, hair sticking up from having clothing dragged over it. Andrew’s jeans were a little short, but they fit well enough. Ross was wearing one of Jim’s shirts and it was stretched tight across the chest. He held the pullover in one hand.

‘I don’t think this was yours.’ He said, shaking it out. On the front was printed ‘Five Islands School’ and underneath in white, block, capital letters were the words ‘FOOTBALL’.

Jim looked up at him. ‘I knew it would fit you.’

Ross clenched his jaw for moment then blew a slow breath out through his nose. He turned back and met Jim’s eyes.

Jim stared back, unsure of what had caused the sudden tension between them.

‘I’m sorry.’ Ross finally said. ‘I love you. I’m - I’m sorry.’

Jim frowned and crossed the room. He stopped when he was barely inches away from Ross, close enough to feel the air heat up between them. He caught Ross’s gaze squarely. ‘I’m not.’

‘What?’ Ross frowned.

‘I’m not. I’m not sorry. Ross, look where we are.’

‘I don’t-’

‘You did everything you could!’

‘Maybe, but-’

‘You did as much as my own mother.’

‘I still should have known!’ Ross shot out.

Jim stared at him, at the way that Ross’s eyes were glistening and wet. ‘How?’ he finally asked, ‘How could you have possibly known?’

‘I don’t know!’ Ross said, frustration making his voice sharp. ‘I should have _felt it_ or something.’

‘Felt it?’

‘I was just. I was so sure that I would know.’ Ross said softly.

Jim reached up, sliding his hand into the dark, tangled hair, at Ross’s temple. Ross closed his eyes and brought his hand up to rest on top of Jim’s.

‘Ross,’ Jim said quietly, ‘we’re only human.’ He watched as Ross took in several deep, even breaths before leaning in for a gentle, chaste kiss.

He pulled back then grinned wickedly. ‘I mean, except for when you are a cat.’

Ross glared.

Jim laughed. ‘C’mon. We’ve got tea. Let’s go see the girls.’

  
  
  
  
  
  


The last thing Verity expected that morning was a knock on the door. No one had rang to get buzzed in, Andrew and Demelza were sitting at the table with her.

‘Did we expect anyone?’she asked, clearly perplexed.

‘Not that I can remember.’ Demelza said with a frown.

The knock on the door came again.

‘One of the neighbours?’ Andrew suggested.

Demelza and Verity looked at each other before sharing a shrug. Verity set her tea down and stood from the table. ‘I’ll go see who it is then.

She opened the door and froze.

‘Hey Verity.’ Ross said, ‘I’m pretty sure you have my keys?’

Verity brought her hand to her mouth and shook her head, still too stunned to speak.

‘Verity?’ he asked, stepping through the doorway.

‘Ross!’ She said, ‘Ross, you’re back!’. Her voice was thick and choked, and Ross could see tearful shine in her eyes.

He closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight hug. ‘Verity, thank you so much for everything. I’m so sorry-’

She cut him off ‘As if any of that was your fault!’

‘You did more-’

‘And I would do it again.’ She said firmly, pushing him away so she could look him in the eyes. ‘Oh, Ross. I’m so happy you’re back.’

He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Believe me when I say this: so am I.’

She laughed, and reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes. ‘Why? How? Do you know?’

Ross glanced back over his shoulder to where Jim had closed the door behind them and was toeing his shoes off. He turned back to Verity. ‘I might have some idea.’

Verity glanced between the two of them and smiled. ‘I’m so happy for you.’

Ross smiled back. ‘I think-’

It was then that Demelza’s head popped around the corner. ‘Verity, who- ROSS!’.

Ross winced a bit at the unexpected volume, but had to smile in the face of Demelza’s exuberant delight. He stepped away from Verity and held his arms out expectantly. Demelza happily tackled him.

‘You fuckin’ piece of shite!’ she said gleefully as he spun her around. ‘How the fuck did you get back to you?’

Ross laughed and set her down.

She punched him in the shoulder. ‘We were so fucking worried.’

Ross’s mirth dimmed. ‘I know. I never-’

‘Oh shut up!’ Demelza said. ‘I meant we’re glad to have you back.’

By this time, Coral and Andrew had heard the commotion and made their way to the entryway. Ross looked up and nodded. ‘Hi.’

‘It’s good to have you back.’ Coral said.

‘So, you’re back from Australia?’ Andrew said slowly.

Ross shot a confused glance between Verity and Demelza who had equally pained looks on their faces.

‘Uhm…’ Ross said.

Jim stepped forward and slung his arm around Ross’s waist. ‘Not exactly.’ He looked suspiciously between Verity and Demelza before he turned to Andrew and let out a sigh. ‘There was a little bit more to it than that.

‘Uhm…’ Ross said again. ‘Andrew. About your cat…’

  
  
  
  
  


*    *    *     *

  
  
  


Ross was mostly asleep on his bed. He was supposed to be sending follow-up emails for the seemingly thousands of job applications that he had sent out since his return to his bipedal form. He had been a human for a few scant weeks, but he was already exhausted. He had his laptop open on his lap, and was being steadily lulled to sleep by the whir of the fan and the steady heat of it on his stomach.

Jim had offered him a job at the pub, but they had both known it would have been a bad idea. They were still trying to rebuild themselves and their relationship. The last thing they needed was to complicate their already complicated situation by adding a working relationship on top of their accumulated baggage.

They were both keenly aware of the fact that Jim had money. Jim had more money than any human could conceivably spend in a lifetime, safely stowed in a Swiss bank account, because while working with Silver had been involuntary and traumatizing, it had also been incredibly lucrative. Jim had known well enough to keep his shares as far out of Silver’s reach as was possible. He’d escaped with cash and six thousand carats of diamonds hidden in his pockets, which was how he’d gotten home, but he had far more than that in various banks and investments.

Ross had money, but it was all in a trust fund only accessible when he’d either graduated from university or turned thirty. Neither of of the two was going to be happening any time soon. Ross knew that if he truly hit dire straights, Jim would be there to help. For now, though, they had decided that it was best for them to maintain their own independence as much as possible as they settled into the new version of their relationship.

He was torn from his dozing state when his phone went off. He swiped the call open without processing who was calling.

‘’Llo?’

‘Oh, shit, Ross, were you asleep?’

It was Jim. Ross blinked blearily. ‘No. Not really.’

There was a pause from the other side of the line. ‘Look, Ross, have you found anything yet?’

Ross sighed. He loved Jim, but this was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about. ‘No. Nothing yet. It’s a bit hard with an unexplainable gap in my work history and the fact that I would never be able to get a reference from the cafe.’ Ross knew he sounded defeated, but it was hard for him to find any kind of positivity in the situation.

‘I think I might have a lead for you.’

‘Yeah?’ Ross said, suddenly feeling completely awake. ‘What’ve you got?’

‘A friend of mine mentioned to me today that he needs a bartender.’

‘I can do that.’ Ross said honestly.

‘Yeah? It’s mostly just pulling pints.’

‘I used to do that. The café did craft brews.’

Jim laughed ‘That’s so fucking hipster.’

Ross grinned. ‘Shut up. It’s good.’

‘You would know.’

‘I would.’ Ross said, ‘I’m a cool cat.’

‘You are not. You are the dorkiest cat who ever lived and you can’t hold your catnip.’

Ross could feel his face burning at the mention. ‘I’m still blaming Andrew for that one.’

‘Sure you are.’ Jim said, and Ross could hear his smile through the phone. ‘So, you want me to give him a call for you? His name is Duncan, by the way.’

‘Jim, that would be so great.’ Ross said, feeling hope buoy through him for the first time in days.

‘Consider it done. Fair warning: I did tell him that you’d just come back from South America.’

‘What? Why?’

‘You’ve spent the past six months away from all human contact to do a deep study of cat behaviour.’

Ross slapped his palm to his face. ‘Of course.’

‘It’s even mostly true!’

‘It’s better than counting crocodiles in Australia.’ Ross conceded.

‘Verity was working under pressure.’ Jim protested.

‘So what’s your excuse?’

‘That you stole my socks for two months.’

Ross felt himself blushing again. ‘You deserved it.’ he grumbled, but they both knew he didn’t mean it.

‘Sure I did.’ Jim said, then paused. ‘Are you doing anything tonight?’

Ross glanced down at the laptop on his stomach that had long since gone to sleep. ‘I was going to send follow-ups.’

‘Ahh.’ Jim said. ‘Do you want to come out with me? There’s a new restaurant I want to try. Peruvian fusion or something?’

Ross smiled. ‘Is there an occasion?’

‘I just haven’t seen you much this week.’

‘I know.’ Ross said. ‘I miss you.’

‘Tonight sound good?’

‘Tonight sounds perfect.’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’

Ross smiled, and his chest hurt with the ferocity of emotion that was storming through him. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you back.’

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*    *    *     *

  
  
  
  


_3 months later:_

 

Jim had waited at Duncan’s pub for Ross to get off his shift. Ross had seen him and practically bounced through the tables to reach him.

‘Hey! I didn’t expect to see you!’ Ross gave Jim a brief kiss before pulling him in for a hug and tucking his nose into Jim’s neck.’

‘You’re not actually a cat anymore. You do know that right?’

Ross licked him.

‘Fuck’s sake, Ross!’ Jim said pushing him away with a smile.

‘Pretty sure you still make me purr!’ Ross said, raising his eyebrows and give Jim a heated look.

Jim shook his head. ‘Not tonight, Tom-cat. Tonight you have a birthday dinner to go to.’

Ross beamed. ‘You gonna walk me there?’

‘Couldn’t have the guest of honour getting lost.’

Jim smiled again and took Ross’s hand. ‘Now, we’d better get going on we’ll be late.’

‘Can I be late to my own party?’

‘You can show up after Demelza and Coral have drunk Verity and Andrew under the table.’

‘Ahh yes.’ Ross said with a nod, ‘We’d best be off then.’

Jim leaned up and kissed Ross on the cheek before leading him out of the pub. It was a foggy, grey day, but warm despite the lack of sun. They both knew the path to what had become their usual spot for meeting up with the six of them. Jim looked at the familiar buildings and let his mind wander.

The closer they got to the pub, the more nervous he became. Over the past few months, he and Ross had been finding their footing together. It had once again become a common occurrence for them to be spending afternoons draped over each other, arguing over the merits of internal rhyme schemes. They’d spent hours writing together, singing together, communicating through music like they had in the past.

The only difference was that Ross would never play. Ross had made no mention of wanting to pick up another guitar. Jim had felt it keenly, but hadn’t known how to bring it up. It was Verity who had first mentioned the idea, though she’d quickly been supported by Demelza, Coral and Andrew.

Jim had spent weeks searching, trying to find the perfect guitar. In the end, he’d gone for a beautiful acoustic/electric. It had the electric plug-ins, so Ross could still stick it into an amp and make itk scream if he wanted to, but the acoustic guitar was far more suited for the jam sessions in Jim’s room that had become their new de facto studio space.

It wasn’t anything like what Ross used to play, the scrappy Strat that they’d found in the attic. This wasn’t a guitar for gigs in pubs. It was for living rooms and dinner parties. Jim hoped that Ross would see it as Jim did; perfect for the intimacy that they’d built. The two of them, in their own cocoon of music, where they built themselves up to be strong enough to face anything the world could send at them.

‘You with me Jim?’ Ross asked giving him a light shake on the shoulder

Jim jerked out of his stupor. ‘Huh? What. Yes. What?’ He shook his head. ‘What were you saying?’

Ross gave him an odd look. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ross said, seriously, ‘But I hope you would tell me if there was something.’

Jim smiled, touched by Ross’s concern. ‘I would.’ He assured, turning and leaning up to press a soft kiss to Ross’s mouth.

Ross smiled and kissed back, just as light. ‘You just seem distracted.’

‘Just tired.’ Jim said.

‘If you want to make an early night of it-’

‘It’s your birthday!’ Jim protested, ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Okay.’ Ross said giving a playful tug on Jim’s ponytail. He grinned and spun to stand in front of Jim, before ducking down to kiss him again. ‘Hey.’ He said. ‘I love you.’

Jim laughed. ‘I love you too, you Cat-boy.’

Ross stuck his tongue out at the name. ‘His name is Stray.’

‘You were not a stray. You wore a collar.’ Jim said, deliberately not commenting on the reference. ‘Now come on.’ He grabbed Ross’s hand and pulled him into the pub.

 

 

Demelza, Coral, Verity and Andrew were all waiting for them in a corner booth. Their table stuck out painfully with the bunches of balloons tied to the railings, and the massive cake in the center of the table.

Ross’s mouth dropped open at the sight of it. ‘How many people are you trying to feed with that thing?’ He said when they got to the table.

‘It’s not a proper cake if there aren’t enough leftovers to eat for a week.’ Demelza said, as if it were obvious.

Ross grinned. ‘Alright. I will accept that logic.’

‘You’d better.’ She said, raising an eyebrow and giving a prim sniff before dissolving into giggles.

‘Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to sit down?’ Coral asked. Ross started shrugging out of his jacket to sit down.

‘I thought I might go get us drinks first?’ Jim said.

Ross looked up from his seat and reached over to take Jim’s hand. Jim gave it a reassuring squeeze before he looked back to the group. ‘Everybody having the usual?’

There was a general murmur of agreement.  Verity slid off the end of the other bench. ‘I’ll come with you.’

She waited until they were out of earshot from the table before she leaned over. ‘We’re going to give it to him as soon as we get back.’

Jim turned to her. ‘No! We can’t do that-’

‘Yes, we can, because he’s going to love it, and if we don’t you’ll be fretting all night and that’s no fun for anyone.’

‘What if he doesn’t want it though?’

‘Why on earth wouldn’t he like it?’

Jim bit his lip. ‘Because of why he stopped playing in the first place.’

‘I know.’ She said, kindly. ‘But you’re back now.’

Jim looked at her, clearly not convinced.

‘This is why we’re giving it to him when we sit back down.’

Jim looked pained, but he knew better than to argue when she was right. ‘Fine.’

‘Good.’ She said, and then she reached over to tug on his hair. ‘I’m going to braid this later.’

Jim laughed. ‘Of course you are.’

They got their drinks, and headed back to the table.  Demelza and Coral were in the center, with Andrew and Ross on either side, leaving space for Verity and Jim on the ends. They set the glasses down, but didn’t sit.

‘Actually, we have a thing to get first.’ Verity said, ‘We’ll be right back.’

Jim nodded in agreement, but didn’t say anything.

Ross looked around the table, but everyone looked as confused as he felt. ‘Okay?’ he said.

‘Back in a tick.’ Verity said, grabbing Jim’s hand and dragging him away from the table.

Ross stared after them. ‘Any clue what that was about?’

‘As if we’d tell you!’ Demelza said, enthusiastically. ‘It’s your birthday! Now. Drink up!’

Ross grinned and raised his glass.

  
  
  


 

It took a few minutes for Verity and Jim to get back to the table, they were each holding on to an end of a huge box.

Ross stared. ‘Did you get me a refrigerator?’

Verity glared at him. ‘Just open it!’

‘I thought “presents happen after cake.”’ He said, teasing her with words from their childhood.

‘Shut up!’ She said with a laugh. ‘This one is special. Now come on!’

Ross grinned and scooted over to get a better look at how to open the box. He had just pulled the top apart when Verity spoke up again.

‘This one’s from Jim.’

Ross looked at Jim. Jim, who was quiet and looked nervous. ‘Are you sure? I don’t-’

‘It’s fine!’ Jim said quickly. ‘Just - open it.’

Ross frowned. ‘Okay.’ He found the seam pull the lid off the box. He lifted it and stared. He reached in and gently lifted out the heavy, black guitar case. He turned to Jim. ‘Is this..?’

Jim grinned, hearing the clear awe in his boyfriend’s voice. ‘You gonna open it and find out?’

Ross beamed and flipped the latches on the case open. He pushed the top up and then stared. ‘Oh, Jim. She’s beautiful.

‘I started writing music again a little while back.’ Jim said with a smirk, as if Ross hadn’t been there, as if Ross hadn’t been the reason. ‘It doesn’t sound right without guitar.’

‘Jim…’ Ross said, blinking back the burning in his eyes. ‘I’m so out of practice.’

‘It comes back easier than you’d think.’ Jim said. ‘You just gonna stare, or are you going to say hello?’

Gingerly, Ross extricated the guitar from its case and settled it on his lap. At first, he just ran his hands along the curves of wood, pressing his fingers against the strings but not playing. Then, he looked up at Jim with a grin, and settled his fingers against the fretboard in the chords that his muscles remembered, even if his mind forgot.

‘ _It’s the same words that you’ve heard before.’_

Jim grinned brilliantly, and started to sing along.

_'But don’t you pretend that you’re bored.’_

It took some prodding, but with a stern look from Jim, Verity started singing too.

‘ _Superior Quality Mopheads,_

_we’re gonna take the world by storm.’_

Ross kept playing, despite his shock when everyone else at the table joined in.

_‘We’re the hottest thing that you’ve ever seen,_

_You know you want to be on our team._

_so get up on this stage,_

_‘cause we’re living the dream._

_Superior Quality Mopheads,_

_we’re gonna take the world by storm._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing.
> 
> Thank you all for being such a wonderful audience. <3

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you'd like a chat, [come say hi](http://taupefox59.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


End file.
